


Somethin' Stupid

by LordSpoonyBard



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSpoonyBard/pseuds/LordSpoonyBard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After several chance encounters, Dorian and Cullen finally meet properly. They proceed to fumble around their relationship, neither one truly aware of their significance to each other. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>This is chiefly a slowly building relationship between Dorian and Cullen, until it finally blossoms into a gentle romance. It's light on angst, and focusses mostly on them having a good time with each other and learning the ins and outs of another person. <i></i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you have time, a review would go much appreciated. I don't write like this very often, so any advice is good. You have my thanks!

Dorian groaned as he looked at the clock. Forty-five whole minutes until he could close up the shop and go home. Normally on any given day there would be plenty to do, but for today there was nothing. Dorian worked at a small bookshop with dwindling customer numbers, leading to an increasingly boring work place. The manager left no list of tasks to be completed, and all the books remained tidy from the last time he worked. So, for forty-five minutes, he would have to stand there, doing nothing.

In an effort to combat his boredom, he moved between the rows of bookshelves hoping to catch something of interest. No particular volumes called out to him. Dorian walked through these shelves almost every day, and knew when anything had come in. Still, he had hoped that something would pique his interest. As he rounded the corner on his way back to the desk, his foot caught on the corner of a book that stuck out beyond the edge of the lowest shelf. Dorian bent down to push it back in, but decided to take a glimpse instead. The blurb revealed more than enough information for Dorian to almost throw it out and mark it as stolen.

_It was a cold winter, colder than usual. On a group camping trip, two relative strangers are forced to take shelter when a sudden storm blocks the path home. Soon enough, fire won’t be the only thing keeping them warm…_

Dorian all but gagged as he flicked through the pages. He did not realise that there were so many different words for a dick, and he considered himself an expert on the subject.

The bells at the door chimed, and Dorian hastily put the book away before turning to face the customer. And what a customer he was.

For a brief moment, Dorian believed the man to be a trick of the eyes, an illusion brought on in his desperation for entertainment. He was tall, and fairly thick too, a body that hinted at many years of hard labour. He dressed plainly, a simple shirt and a pair of jeans — clothing that suggested he knew not of his own attractiveness, or that perhaps he preferred to go unnoticed.

Dorian cleared his throat. “Hello there. Can I help you with anything?” Dorian made an attempt to lean casually against the top of a shelf, but fumbled, ending up standing there awkwardly.

“Uhm, yes. Probably. I’m looking for something, a book, called the Divine Comedy?” The man seemed unsure of what he was saying, obviously sent by someone else. A partner, perhaps. Dorian assumed a man like him would not be single.

“We have multiple copies of that, some leather-bound, some with essays preceding the text. May I ask who it is for?”

“It’s a gift, actually. I have a party this weekend and the person hosting it happens to love books. Maker only knows how he finds the time to read them, he has more books than there are people on the earth.”

Dorian chuckled lightly, noticing the genuinely perplexed look that the man gave him. “In that case,” Dorian began, walking over toward a shelf at the back of the store, “we have this version, which contains the original Italian text as well as what is considered the best translation.” Dorian pulled a book down from the topmost shelf, reaching up and standing on his toes to get to it. It was a work of art in itself, a beautifully crafted tome that at once looked ancient and elegant. The red leather wrapped all around the surface of the book, with detailed illustrations by Gustave Doré gracing the front and back. The title, inlaid with gold filigree, took up a rather modest portion of the front, while the opening canto resided on the back.

The man stared, for a moment, looking as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. He coughed, and took the book into his hands. “This will do, thank you.”

The man hardly spoke as they continued their exchange, and shortly after that he had left. Dorian wondered what he had done that caused him to leave in such a strange way, but a cursory glance at the clock revealed that his shift was over, and with it, all thought of the man he had just served.

Dorian took care of the end-of-the-day tasks with ease, and locked the front door before making his way out to his car. Truly, Dorian thought, it was a hideous thing. It’s colour was somewhere between beige and grey, a strange sight that mildly repulsed anyone who looked at it. The interior was even more hideous, everything being the same straw colour, while the seats were made out of a particularly itchy material. Yet for all it’s ugliness, he could not say that the car had ever failed him. It was all he had for a long time, and, given the amount of abuse it had seen, was equally as scarred as Dorian. The car had seen — and done — many things, and at times it felt like the only safe place Dorian could inhabit.

The door screeched as he pulled it open, setting off the local wildlife into a furore of barking and screeching. He sat inside, giving the stereo a hard whack so that it would turn on, and waited for the car to whir into life. It was fairly chilly out, and only going to get colder, so he twisted the knob of the heater up before driving away.

Soon, a strange and foul odour permeated the air in the car, smelling much like someone had mixed dirty feet in with a pinch of vomit and some off milk.

Several months ago, Dorian was hanging out with a close friend of his. They’d had the ingenious idea to make potato gnocchi with carbonara sauce for dinner, which, on paper, sounded amazing. But both Dorian and Thomas being who they were, neither of them had much money. Thomas worked at a café, so he suggested that they swing by and take some fresh cream for the sauce from there. They had put it into a large coffee cup, and set it down on the dashboard while they drove around to get the rest of the ingredients. Sure enough, after turning around a corner, the cup tipped over and the entirety of it’s contents poured down into the air vent. They cleaned it up as best they could, but had no way of getting into the air vent. From then on, every time Dorian was in the car on a cold day, he’d have to choose between that foul odour or sitting in the cold.

“Damn it all,” Dorian muttered. He turned off the heater, resigning himself to a shivery drive home.

Just over thirty minutes later, Dorian arrived. As soon as his car turned into his driveway, he saw the head of his cat poking up against the window. I’m coming, he thought to himself, knowing that the cat would be waiting for her dinner. She was tiny, even for her breed, but despite that she seemed to eat more food than Dorian himself.

He unlocked his front door and stepped inside, chuckling at the enthusiastic greeting he received from his pet. She rubbed up against his legs, weaving between them as Dorian walked into the house. He put his bag against the wall and walked down into the kitchen.

At this time of day, the afternoon sun shone right through the lounge room window and into the kitchen, blanketing everything in a warm yellow light. Dorian’s home was small in size, but featured every amenity he could possibly hope for. From the front door you would step into a short hallway, where a door on the left led to his bedroom and the bathroom beyond that. The hallway itself opened out into a kitchen and dining area, on the opposite of which was a large couch and television. Beyond the kitchen was a laundry room, and beyond that was an outdoor deck.

It was a lovely home, though not one Dorian came in to through inheritance or hard work, despite his best efforts. When his friend Thomas hit the figurative goldmine and developed a successful application for iPhones, Dorian was offered the house, free-of-charge. Thomas’s reasoning being that Dorian would do the same for him if they were in each other’s place. Dorian refused, but eventually they settled on Dorian paying rent every month, although Thomas would only accept a paltry amount. The house had been the biggest blessing Dorian could have asked for, and he was thankful every day for having Thomas as a friend.

The cat, which Dorian still had no name for, began to meow more profusely now, drawing Dorian out of his semi-trance state. He made a mental note to text Thomas and ask if they were still going for a run later in the evening. He opened the pantry and looked for ‘Frisky Bitz’ which, despite its low price, was the only food his cat would eat. He’d barely finished pouring the food into the cat’s bowl before she stuck her head in it, causing Dorian to pour a few onto the back of her head. Satisfied with her dinner, the cat munched away, allowing Dorian to finally relax.

He took his phone out and quickly typed out a message. Hey, Thomas, just checkin if we’re still gonna go for a run tonight, let me know!

Shortly after, a response came through. You bet your sweet ass we are. Don’t think you can get outta running with me that easily!

Alright, meet you at the usual spot.

Cool beans!

Thomas was almost always a light-hearted and jovial person. Sometimes Dorian thought that nary a single negative thought has gone through that man’s head.

Satisfied with his plans for the evening, Dorian made himself a small snack of fresh cherry tomatoes and a few multigrain crackers. He had once made the mistake of running on a completely empty stomach and felt awful afterward. He had also once made the mistake of running on too full a stomach, and felt even worse. Running, truth be told, was not a particularly enjoyable activity for Dorian, but at the moment it was one of the only occasions where he got to see Thomas without having other people around. Sometimes Dorian felt afraid that he was holding Thomas back, but whenever he brought it up Thomas would always find a way to make Dorian feel better again.

Dorian scanned the kitchen, looking for anything that needed doing. Having as few belongings as he did, there was never a lot to clean up, so it did not take him very long before he was out of things to do again. There wasn’t really enough time to start anything before he had to leave to meet Thomas, which Dorian felt silently thankful for. He hated when he had free time but nothing to do in it; it almost felt like he didn’t deserve to have that time at all. He considered trying to write a little more of his novel, but found his muse sorely lacking and decided against it.

The television entertained him during the wait, and when it was time to leave he shut it off without so much as a second thought. He wasn’t even really watching it in the first place, just using it to distract himself from feeling lonely. Dorian walked over to his bedroom, where his running clothes were neatly folded atop his chest of drawers. He took the time to make sure his hair was neat, his moustache was combed, and that all the cat hair had been removed from his clothing. By the time he had gotten through with that, it was time to leave.

 

* * *

 

“Yo! Dorian!” Thomas screamed out, frightening several passersby.

Dorian spotted the man who was calling him, and jogged over, smiling the whole way. They hugged briefly, a warm and tight squeeze that had been perfected over years of friendship. “Thomas, how are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Super pooped at the mo, but otherwise pretty good. Just been chillin. Killin. You know how it is.”

A small chuckled escaped Dorian. “I can only imagine. How’s the Bull?”

Thomas had been with his partner (dubbed the Iron Bull), for just over a year now. The two of them met when Thomas hired the Bull’s security company to be the bouncers at once of his presentations. Each time Thomas talked about the first encounter between him and the Bull, he would give varying amounts of time that passed between the initial meeting and when the sex started. Dorian’s personal estimate was anywhere between zero and five minutes. Sometimes he envied them, and it seemed like the frequency of sex had never waned, while other times Dorian is left bewildered, wondering how Thomas keeps up with it all.

“He’s good too,” Thomas replied. “At home with Amy and Dala. He’s taking them to puppy school, we figured that they should at least learn how to sit. He says hello by the way.”

“I must come and see the girls soon. How I miss them!”

“You'll have to visit soon. Which reminds me, my party is on Saturday. You still good to come?” Confusion must have been evident on Dorian’s face, because Thomas shortly followed up by saying “you do remember that I am having a costume party this weekend?”

“Ah. That. Yes, of course! How could I forget?” Obviously, Dorian had completely forgotten. He mentally chided himself, he knew full well that he had no good reason to forget either. It wasn’t like his social life was hectic.

“Good. And don’t forget, you’re gonna have to kick ass with your costume. I won’t accept anything less than a masterpiece.”

“My friend, I _am_ the masterpiece. What are you dressing up as?”

“You will just have to wait and see. C’mon, let’s get running.”

Dorian nodded, and the two of them set off down the track. The path they followed was always beautiful, no matter the season. Today was particularly beautiful, as recent rainfall had given the lush vegetation a more vivid green hue, and filled with air with a rich earthy scent. A cool breeze weaved in and out of the trees, rustling bushes and branches alike, while birds chirped and sang high up in the trees. The track itself was dirt alone, though countless people had trampled it down into a super hard surface that was quite easy to run on. A river ran parallel to the track, but a short distance away, only just visible through the thickets that separated them.

They stopped infrequently throughout the run, talking casually while they caught their breath. Thomas seemed particularly happy today, and his mood rubbed off on Dorian so that by the time that they had reached the starting point again, Dorian’s face was sore from constant smiling.

“I think that was our personal best,” Thomas said through heavy breaths. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. “Next time I’ll bring the dogs, and we can try and race them.”

“Us against a pair of Alaskan Malamutes? I daresay there is a higher chance of a giant tear opening in the sky than there is of us beating those dogs.”

Thomas looked deeply disheartened by the news that he could not, in fact, outrun his dogs, but seconds later the smile returned to his face. “Well, we won’t know until we try. I like our odds.”

Rather than continue to point out the myriad reasons why they would not be able to defeat a pair of large dogs in a single race, Dorian simply agreed. “I look forward to the challenge, then.”

It was beginning to get dark, and the mosquitos were starting to bite at their exposed skin. The sun was a purple-orange hue, a strange and beautiful combination that Dorian enjoyed quite strongly.

The two men said their goodbyes, exchanging another hug and agreeing to meet at the same time the following week.

“Don’t forget, party this Saturday, which is a day from now. Saturday at seven p.m. Dorian. Repeat it to me, I need to know you were listening.”

“Sunday at four p.m. Got it.”

“Dorian, fuck you.”

Thomas waved, walking toward his car as he did so. It was a sleek, deep purple thing, looking more like something out of a futuristic action film than any real vehicle. Compared to Dorian’s beast, it might has well been a different thing entirely.

Once Thomas had driven off, Dorian hopped into his car and gave it the regular whack it needed, switching between radio stations before he settled on one that was playing Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty. The drive home passed by in a blur, the stirring music making the dreary roads come alive with each swell of the instruments.

When he had arrived home, he showered quickly and settled in to his pyjamas before sliding into bed. His cat jumped up beside him a few seconds later, and in no time at all the two of them had drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Costume shopping, gelati, and an encounter with a superhero -- Dorian also is remarkably silly for not putting two and two together.

Dorian allowed himself the morning to sleep in. It was a rare treat indeed, and above all else, it was one that Dorian wished he could have more of. Despite his modest bed time, he would always feel tired the next day. A couple extra hours of sleep do wonders, so when the opportunity knocked, he took it. The sun was already close to reaching it’s peak in the sky by the time Dorian got out of bed. Few clouds blocked the view of the blue above, creating a truly lovely day and giving Dorian an extra zing in his step. 

By the time he was dressed and ready to begin his day in earnest, another hour had passed. It was a quarter to one when he arrived at his local café, which, thankfully, served breakfast all day. Dorian treated himself to a short stack of pancakes with a generous serving of maple glazed bacon. Not something he would normally allow himself, but given the beauty of the day, he thought ‘why _not’._ He sat at a table outside, peering through his sunglasses and observing the locals go about their business. Occasionally, a handsome man would pass by, but not one seemed to notice Dorian. He was not bothered in the slightest, though, simply enjoying his time alone, finding himself at ease for the first time in a long time. 

While picking at the last of his meal, Dorian used Google to find the nearest place that sold costumes. There was only one within a reasonable distance, but their website showed a large selection of costumes at reasonable prices. Once he had finished eating, Dorian paid for his food (leaving as generous a tip as his money allowed), and set off for the costume shop called _Metamorphis_.

With Siri to guide him, Dorian reached the store in thirty-five minutes. The drive felt long, but mostly because it was uneventful; once he passed beyond the border of his suburb, the landscape became nothing but dry grass. The building was part of a much larger complex, comprised mainly of factory outlets that sold things at more competitive prices. There were a few clothing stores listed there that Dorian liked, so he decided to check them out after finding a costume. 

A large, glittery sign adorned the shopfront, announcing without a doubt that the place was called Metamorphis and that it sold every kind of costume you could think of. When he stepped through the door, a sharp buzz alerted the staff to his presence. As he looked around, it occurred to Dorian that he had no idea of what to wear, and the sheer volume of choices available to him made it even more difficult to decide. From the front door of the store, you could see racks upon racks of various costumes and gear, while on the left side of the wall sat a counter and two friendly looking staff members. Opposite that, and close to the entrance, was a flight of stairs that led to a large selection of prop weapons and other such things. He must’ve looked overwhelmed, because no sooner than he had finished taking in the sheer size of the building, an enthusiastic young woman approached him. 

“Hi there!” She was dressed as some sort of nun, all white and red with a strange hat that bore a symbol that looked largely like a sun. A golden sword sat square on her chest, while the rest of the outfit continued in much the same fashion. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Hmm,” Dorian began, trying to think of a way to ask for budget costumes without sounding too cheap. “I think I will just look around for now, but thank you.”

“You know where I am if you need me!” The girl smiled at him one more time before returning to her post at the counter. 

As Dorian wandered off into the section of costumes designated for superheroes, he heard the buzzer go off, and another customer get greeted. 

The same girl who had offered him assistance was now helping out the new customer, and Dorian overheard her recommend him a Captain America costume. Going by the conversation he could hear, the man was rather strapping, and rather inept at picking up on someone’s flirtatious advances. 

Dorian poked his head around the corner to see what all the fuss was about, and immediately recognised this Captain America type as being the man who came in to buy the Divine Comedy. Panicking, Dorian crossed over into the next aisle to avoid being seen and recognised. The man and the attendant approached, talking amicably about a party that the man was to attend that weekend. They had found the Captain America costume and were going to try it on and see if it would fit. 

Much to Dorian’s dismay, he realised that the change rooms were at the end of the aisle he was now standing in. Just before they could see him, Dorian dived into the rack of costumes, pretending to be thoroughly examining them as the two of them walked past. Dorian exhaled sharply, making a beeline for the stairs in the hopes that he could hide out up there until the man left. 

The props that the store carried were truly marvellous, mostly appearing to be made from high quality materials that looked a lot like the real thing. Feeling like inspiration might strike if he found an exciting enough weapon, Dorian decided to begin his costume hunt here. There were all manner of swords, knives, shields — every kind of medieval weapon you could think of. Along the back wall were the more esoteric items, obscure pop culture objects for only the most hard-core cosplayers and costume enthusiasts. The next aisle over displayed magical objects, with a significant portion of the space devoted to wands from the Harry Potter universe. Dorian espied a large wooden stave, that split into three serpentine creatures at the head. It was made of a hard black material, feeling almost like stone, but not quite. Dorian picked it up, feeling the smoothness of it and enjoying it immensely.

“You’ve got a costume party, too, huh?” someone asked. 

Dorian turned to answer the question, coming face to face with Captain America — in one hand, he even clutched the signature shield. Crap, he thought. “Ah, yes. I am not sure what to go as. Though I can’t see myself as a mage,” Dorian said, returning the weapon to it’s display stand. “Though, look at you. I find myself before a superhuman soldier. How charming.”

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it? And uh, I am glad I saw you here. I wanted, to um, apologise for how I acted the other day. I realised I was late for something and had to leave very quickly.”

“No matter,” replied Dorian. 

“Still, it was rude of me. My name is Cullen. Pleased to meet you. Properly this time.” Cullen extended his hand, a nervous giggle escaping him as he did so. 

“Dorian.” 

The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, at a loss for what to say next.   

“Well, I better go pay for this. Damned thing is going to be difficult to remove.” Cullen shuffled off, his movement hampered by the tights of the costume. 

Cullen’s exit afforded a fair view of his posterior, an opportunity Dorian held no issue with seizing. The blue tights really did suit the man.

Dorian cleared his head and returned to the hunt, hoping to find something sooner rather than later. Fortunately, he found a bargain bin of sorts, where the prices seemed to equate to the amount ofmaterials used in the costume. He rummaged through the various bits and pieces, eventually setting on a set of underpants made out of fig leaves. He held them up, appraising them, knowing full well how good he would look when he turned up in such an outfit — if it could even be called that. 

Satisfied with his find, Dorian made his way to the counter to make his purchase. Only the male attendant was there when he returned. He laughed when he saw what Dorian was buying, telling him that they’d been trying to get rid of that particular costume for a long time. 

“It’s been here nearly as long as I have,” said the man. “I think you have chosen well,” he continued, looking Dorian up and down. “Shame I won’t be able to see you wear it.”

“Who knows,” Dorian replied, “I daresay I will look good enough to be taken as Adam reincarnate. You might even see me on the news.”

“Quite so,” said the man. 

The girl who had helped Dorian earlier had returned to the counter, carrying various pieces of merchandise. “Found something?” she asked Dorian. 

“Indeed I have.”

Once Dorian had paid for his costume, he left the store, keen to browse the other places available to him. He spent a good portion of the afternoon there, but time was all he could afford at present, despite the marked down prices that the outlets offered. Some day, he would return, and be able to buy anything his heart desired. That much he promised himself. 

After spending much of the afternoon window shopping, Dorian decided to stop for some gelato. Nestled among the much larger shops was a comparatively small gelateria called _Cosi Duci._ Dorian entered, and was greeted by an old couple who ran the shop. 

"What can I get you?” asked the old woman. She stood at the freezer, gesturing toward all the different kinds of gelati on display.

“I will have…” Dorian took a few moments to decide, wanting to try each and every flavour, but instead settled on an old favourite of his. “Could I just have one scoop of the lemon, and one scoop of the lime please?”  


“Si.” The woman scooped with skill, a simple and elegant movement that showed years upon years of practice. 

“Grazie,” said Dorian, taking the gelato from her and passing over the money. He cringed slightly at his pronunciation, but the old woman didn't seem to notice. 

Once Dorian exited the store, he sat in his car eating his frozen treat. It may just have been the best gelato he had ever eaten. The lemon flavour was sweet and slightly creamy, perfectly complimenting the tartness of the lime. So good, was it, that Dorian immediately decided that he would be taking Thomas there as soon as possible. He sent his friend a quick text to let him know of his discovery. With the gelato down, Dorian headed home, pleasantly satisfied with the events of the day. 

 

* * *

 

The afternoon passed with relative ease, and though Dorian expected something to go wrong, nothing did. He found himself with ample spare time to watch a few corny horror films — a secret love of his — that evening. Horror, unfortunately, was something that he had to enjoy alone, as no amount of pleading would convince Thomas to even try watching one. Sometimes, Dorian wished things were different, and he imagined himself a life where he never had to leave so much behind. 

Several years ago, Dorian was forced to flee from his family home. After his family found out about his attraction to the same sex, they tried all manner of harmful and destructive things on him in order to change his ways. One day, it went far beyond what Dorian could tolerate, and he left. Everything. Including most of his friends. With nothing but the clothes on his back, and a small backpack of his own personal belongings. He still kept in touch with Felix, a man with whom Dorian had shared most of his childhood. They were the closest and dearest of friends, but distance makes everything difficult. Shortly after Dorian moved away, Felix began to talk with Dorian less and less, though the talking never fully stopped. Dorian had learned in time that Felix had found someone who kept him busy. Which, truthfully, Dorian was happy for, but it did hurt a little bit that they no longer spoke as often. Felix would come to Dorian for anything and everything, and now he seems only to talk when he's got no other thing he could do. People will often need you, but never forever, Dorian learned. 

Catching himself dwelling on his old friend, Dorian chose to watch the first Child’s Play, a true classic of the late eighties horror. He and Felix had seen it many times, but Dorian felt at ease with the familiar story beats, allowing himself to switch off for the film’s brief duration. Another thing that Dorian liked about horror was their (generally) much shorter running time. Most films recently, even those not considered ‘epic’ tended to be closer to three hours in length — a horror film like Child’s Play clocks in at eighty-eight minutes. Dorian could go on and on about the benefits of shorter films. He had many strong feelings about these things. Above all, though, something about stupid people getting exactly what they deserved satisfied him. 

He first watched Child’s Play, and then the Re-Animator, and finally an old film from nineteen forty-eight called the Uninvited. All in all, Dorian enjoyed his night, heading to bed just after midnight. He slept soundly, waking up only once through the night when his cat decided that his face was the best place to sleep on. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boring shift at work precedes a totally insane party, where Dorian meets and greets a few of Thomas' friendship group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a party, so there's alcohol, just as a warning, and, as always, enjoy!

The sun cut through the blinds at Dorian’s window, hitting him square in the eyes with a beam of light. He had forgotten to close it properly the night earlier, and regretted it as soon as the morning sun woke him. Knowing full well he would be unable to get back to sleep, Dorian decided to take advantage of the early morning and prepare himself a real breakfast. He had some pulled pork in the fridge, so he heated it up in the fry pan and put it atop some crunchy toast with home made applesauce and a generous spread of butter. The pork became extra crispy on the count of being re-fried, and made for an extremely delicious meal which Dorian was sure to create again. He devoured his breakfast so fast that when he finished, he realised he never stopped to savour the full flavours presented to him. He scribbled down the ingredients, as well as a few other things that he needed, onto a shopping list and folded it up neatly before placing it into his wallet. 

The cat was meowing hungrily at her bowl, alternating between a look at the empty dish and a look at Dorian. He retrieved the cat’s food and poured it out for her, patting her absent-mindedly as he did so. Dorian tidied up the kitchen quickly before he had a brisk shower, washing the way the last of his bed brain. He emerged fully refreshed and ready to take on the day. His work clothes were still on the floor from two days ago, which Dorian would say was ‘useful clutter’ rather than messy behaviour. He was tidy with most things, his kitchen evidence of that, but his bedroom was as messy as anyone else’s. He felt that the bedroom was truly his space, everywhere else in the house was just another room. He hardly ever let anyone into his inner-sanctum. If a bed was ever required, Dorian would find a way to steer the action to a different location. His bedroom, and the things in it, were something that Dorian had decided to never share.

The drive to work was calm and quiet, much like his shift itself. The day was fairly busy, though it never reached unmanageable levels of chaos. It was just right, with rarely a line at the counter forming. It seemed as though the customers were working in synergy, each only deciding to purchase after the person preceding them had. Before he knew it, his shift was over, and it was time to go home and get ready for the party. 

On his way home, Dorian stopped at the supermarket to buy some gift-wrap and a card. While he was at the checkout, his phone buzzed, indicating a new message from Thomas. 

_Hey brotato, just letting you know there’s a guy I want you to meet coming to the party tonight. Super sexy. I think you’ll really like him._

Dorian shivered involuntarily, a visceral reaction to the thought of meeting another one of Thomas’ set ups. As smart and caring as he was, Thomas just was not that good at picking a suitable romantic partner for Dorian. Thankfully, it had been some time since the last blind date, so Dorian was not entirely against the idea. Just mostly.

_You do recall the last few times you did that, don’t you? They were unmitigated disasters. The lot of them._

He paid for his goods, and walked out of the store. 

_I know, Dorian, but this guy is different. I can feel it. Plus, Cass, Josie and Leliana know him quite well and they seem to think he’d be good for you. Besides, I’ve seen him naked and he is packing heat. Good for a shag if nothing else happens, anyway. See you later! xo_

There was no sense in arguing against him. Once Thomas had an idea in his head, it was impossible to get it out. And he was right too, a good night of hot sex might be exactly what Dorian needed at this point in time. It had been a while since his last encounter. 

At home, Dorian got to work making sure that Thomas’ present was perfect. Dorian figured that since Thomas loved books, then he would like his own book starring himself in it. For the last few months, Dorian had been toiling away at a smutty work of fiction starring Thomas himself and his rather massive lover. The general plot of the story was rather standard fantasy fare, featuring Thomas as the only man in all the world capable of closing up a huge portal in the sky. Along the way, he meets the Iron Bull, a rugged mercenary with a penchant for kinky sex. Dorian took the time to write in all of Thomas’ friends, and even contacted some of them to make sure he was getting their details right. Once that was finished, he wrapped it, bagged it, and started to get ready for the party itself.

Despite his dislike of running, Dorian was fairly good at working out on a regular basis. It certainly helped that a gym was just around the corner from his house, too. After he was showered and adequately perfumed, Dorian found the bag from the costume store and tipped the contents out onto his bed. The costume was constructed of many realistic looking leaves, all bound to a par of flesh coloured underpants. A fake snake accompanied them, designed to be worn like a scarf. The head of the snake sat upright on Dorian’s left shoulder and moved ever so slightly with each step he took. Satisfied with his outward appearance, Dorian gave himself another once-over in the mirror to make sure everything was flawless. 

“Damn,” Dorian said to himself. “I am pretty much the image of perfection.” He turned away, winking at himself as he did so. By the time Dorian had fully prepared, it was just after seven thirty.

It was quite chilly outside, so Dorian wrapped himself up in a long coat before he stepped outside to wait for his taxi. He didn’t plan to drink much that night, but in the event that he had a few Dorian thought it better to be safe rather than sorry. 

Thomas’ home was truly massive, a testament to the success he had found in his career. When the taxi driver arrived, he turned to Dorian to make sure he had the right place, as though he couldn’t believe that a person from where Dorian lived would be attending an event at a place like that. 

“Yep, we’re here alright.” Dorian paid the driver and thanked him. 

It wasn’t hard to see why the taxi driver seemed bewildered by the place. The driveway was long and ran right up to the front of the house, circling around to the front door so that you could easily go in and out. In the centre of the front garden was a beautiful fountain, with a statue of an elegantly carved woman pouring out water in the centre. Lush gardens spanned the entire outer rim of the property, though no flowers were in bloom given the season. It was magnificent, even now, and as time went on and the days became warmer, the garden would become almost magical. The front doors of the house were almost comically large, and so heavy as to suggest they were made of some type of stone. Dorian pressed a button by the door, and a few moments later they opened onto an impressive foyer with high marble pillars and stairs that rose up to a mezzanine and beyond. The muffled wub-wub of bass-heavy music could be heard from the doors atop the stairs, so Dorian followed the sounds up and into the hall.

Dorian certainly did not expect as many people as he saw. Thomas always was one for parties, but never before had Dorian attended one so large. There were hundreds of people, all of them in costume, half of them dancing — and Dorian could not recognise a single one. As he looked around for someone he knew, the music cut out and a familiar voice flooded the room.

“Everyone! Look! My girl Dorian has arrived, fashionably late as usual! Woooooo!” Thomas, who was indubitably beyond slaughtered, was clutching a microphone at the far end of the hall. “Let’s all give him a welcome scream!” 

Against all of Dorian's expectations, everyone was just as drunk as Thomas was. They _all_ screamed. Some said Dorian’s name, others shouted for Thomas, others still just yelled, an incomprehensible cacophony that seemed to last forever. 

Thomas chucked the microphone backward over his head, waving at the DJ to resume her music. He ran toward Dorian, expertly weaving in and out of the crowd until he reached him. 

“Dorian, welcome!” Thomas pulled him into a hug, laughing as he did so. 

When they separated, Dorian took in Thomas' costume, a bright pink princely looking thing, completed with a crown atop his head. 

"Do you know who I am? Prince Gumball! Are you... some sort of secret agent?"

Dorian had forgotten to remove his coat, quickly slipping out of it. "Not in the slightest," he replied, grinning widely. 

"Oh Maker, Dorian, you look phenomenal. Truly. I better keep an eye out and make sure Bull doesn't see you turn around!"

“Thomas, before we continue, you told me to get here at seven p.m., and it is only seven-thirty. How is everyone so drunk already? It looks like everyone’s been here quite some time.” Dorian was deeply concerned, afraid that he had arrived far later than he thought. 

“You know…” Thomas began, his brows furrowing in thought. “I haven’t the slightest idea how it happened. Still, you're here now, and you look amazing, and I look amazing, and that is all that matters.”

Dorian smirked. “Seems like we’re in for a good night then. Where can I put my coat? And, of course, happy birthday my friend.” He handed Thomas his gift. 

Thomas pointed to a table nearby that had various people’s belongings on it. While Dorian put away his coat, Thomas unwrapped the gift. He stared at it, his eyes widening in amazement. “Dorian, this might just be the greatest thing I have ever seen. Truly an impressive gift.” He turned the book over in his hands and read the blurb, looking positively giddy with excitement. 

Suddenly, and without warning, Thomas shouted “oh Maker! This is my song! Hold this!” He handed the book back to Dorian, dashing off into the crowd without so much as a second glance.

Dorian found the table that Thomas meant, and put the book somewhere safe and secure. He looked over all the other gifts, finding some to be much more extravagant, but none quite as personal as the one he had given Thomas. 

As he looked, someone tapped Dorian on the shoulder.

He turned to face Leliana, who was beaming at him. Dorian had met Leliana on several occasions, but was yet to properly hang out with her. “Dorian!You look wonderful!”

“Leliana! How are you? And thank you, as do you.”

Dorian and Leliana hugged briefly, before separating to fully look at each other’s costumes. Leliana was dressed as Bubbles, of the powerpuff girls. 

“Leliana. I love your costume. But if you're bubbles, where are the rest of the girls? Are the other girls here?” 

“They are, and I am sure they’re on their way over to see you. How we’ve missed you Dorian!”

Sure enough, shortly after Leliana finished talking, Josie and Cassandra emerged from the crowd of dancers. Josie was dressed as Blossom, and Cassandra as Buttercup. 

“In all my years, never have I seen a better choice of costume,” Dorian said, admiring the three of them as a collective. He laughed, clapping his hands together, “how marvellous!” Dorian hugged each of them quickly.

“Come, Dorian,” said Leliana, interlocking her arm with his. “We’ve someone we’d like you to meet.”

She led him across the hall and to the far corner, where a man stood alone, looking as out of place as anyone possibly could. For a brief moment, Dorian did not recognise the man behind the Captain America costume. Once a few seconds had passed and he had adjusted to the shock of seeing someone so unexpected, Dorian finally managed to speak.

“Cullen? What are you doing here?” he stammered.

“Dorian! I uh, well I was invited. By Thomas. You, look… well, um… amazing. That is to say—”

“You two know each other?” said the three ladies in unison.

“Yes. Well no, not really, but we have met. Accidentally, a few times,” Cullen replied. 

The two men recounted the stories of the encounters they had had over the last week, and how truly silly they had been in not realising they were both to be attending the same party. 

“Surely this is a sign from the Maker,” Cassandra added, genuinely astonished that Dorian and Cullen had simply managed to meet accidentally. 

“Well,” Dorian began, “when you lay it all out like that it does seem rather odd.”

“But no less fortunate,” Cullen added. 

Dorian smiled softly at Cullen’s remark, hearing the compliment in his words. The group of them strike up a hearty conversation, mostly consisting of Leliana dishing the dirt on Cullen while Dorian, Cassandra and Josephine giggled uncontrollably. Cullen’s face grew redder and redder with each utterance, and eventually it looked as though he were going to pass out due to embarrassment.

“And then, he ran out of the bar, completely naked!”

“Completely naked?” Dorian asked, shocked at the revelation. This ‘Captain America,’ it seemed, bore a more wild side than Dorian could ever have imagined. 

“Might I add,” Cullen interrupted, “that I am almost entirely certain that Varric was cheating. I would never have lost if he weren’t so sneaky.”

Cassandra let out a small disgusted noise. “Did it occur to you that you’re just terrible at Wicked Grace?”

“And from what we saw, you had nothing to be ashamed of. If I were you, I’d parade around naked all the time,” Josie exclaimed, a giggle escaping her.

Dorian began to think that everyone here was more drunk than he initially thought. Suddenly, he too noticed that he had been drinking, becoming aware of the glass in his hand. These girls are _dangerous,_ he thought, struggling to remember which one of them had given him the drink. Not that he didn’t appreciate it, but he would just have to be careful how much he ended up drinking. 

“I wasn’t parading. You all made me do it and I wouldn’t have been there in the first place if Thomas hadn’t insisted on it.” Cullen sounded beyond defeated at this point, and respite from the shaming came in the form of a terribly (albeit intentionally so) dressed, hairy-chested man named Varric Tethras.

“Face it, Curly, you lost. Fair and square,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “And you must be Dorian. The name’s Varric Tethras.” He had a fake moustache attached to his upper lip that quivered with each word he spoke, and copious amounts of jewellery around his neck. 

“I am. A pleasure to meet you, Varric,” replied Dorian. “Am I mistaken in thinking that you are the Tethras of Tethras Publishing House?”

“The one and only,” he replied, giving a small bow of mock courtesy. “My brother and I run the company, though of late it has seemed like I am the sole contributor. Sometimes I wonder if he was in it for the same reasons I was. But enough of that, this is a party, not a business meeting — though I do have an offer if you’re interested.”

“Oh?”

“Thomas mentioned you to me, actually. He said you have something that you’re working on? I’d be happy to give it a read if you like.” Varric reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a small card with his name and contact details on it. “Here.”

“It’s not quite ready, but I will be sure to keep that in mind,” Dorian said, accepting the card. He was not particularly happy about Thomas doing that. Not because he didn’t have anything to get published, but because it was something he wanted to do on his own. He was not intent on relying on Thomas and his connections, nor was he happy to just have things fall into his lap. He was not petty enough to completely turn down the offer — the book writing business can be killer — but Dorian wanted to have his own hard work be the reason for his success.

As if on cue, Thomas barged through the crowd and climbed up onto the stage. “Welcome! Welcome, welcome,” he shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice. “Thank you all for coming to my birthday party!”

Almost everyone in the crowd screamed and cheered, a riotous roar that shook the walls.

“I just want to thank you all for coming, I really really appreciate it and I just love you so much, and I want to specifically thank Dorian, and—” Thomas burped, right into the microphone “—and Cassandra, and Leliana, and Varric, and Josie who is so beautiful and I love her,” he continued. The list of names went on and on, and at one point Thomas even started to cry, unable to fully express how happy and thankful he was for his friends.

Shortly after Thomas finished his speech, the Iron Bull followed on, looking as drunk and mischievous as Thomas did. “Good evening everyone,” he said, sounding not in the slightest bit sincere. “I have come to collect my boyfriend!” He scooped up Thomas, planting a great big kiss on his mouth, before rocking him like a baby. “Sorry to steal him, but it’s time for me to give him his birthday surprise.” For a few brief moments, it appeared as though the Bull was going to take Thomas away to a room somewhere, but instead, the two started making out with fervour, which was faster and faster becoming something a little less appropriate for an audience.

“Oh Maker,” Cassandra groaned, turning away. “This is madness! Must we be subjected to such things at _every_ party Thomas throws!?”

“This is a common occurrence?” Cullen asked. 

“It would seem,” Dorian replied. “There truly is no keeping those two apart. Give me one second, I need to stop this before it progresses into something we will not be able to forget.”

Dorian dashed to the stage, intent on shepherding the two lovers out of sight. After a few ignored attempts at moving them, Dorian simply gave them a light shove, forcing them to pull apart. They both giggled, before running out of sight into the room beyond. Everyone was now looking at Dorian, who signalled the DJ to crank up the music. He picked up the microphone, hoping to turn everyone’s attention back to the festivities. “Have a good night everybody!”

Leliana helped him down to the dance floor, expertly pressing another drink into his hand as she did so.Although this was the first drink that Dorian noticed he had been given, it was also the first drink that he was drunk enough not care that he drank. At this point even Cullen, who, to Dorian, seemed fairly straight-laced, was dancing as though he had not a care in the world. 

The music seemed to swell now, loud enough that it filled every pore on Dorian’s body, giving him the uncontrollable urge to dance. The girls were dancing too, and so was Varric, and the group of them formed their own dance circle right in the middle of the hall. Every song that played served only to make everyone more and more excitable, and by the time the night was almost at it’s end, every single person in attendance was laughing, dancing and having just an all-round great time. 

No-one seemed to notice the hours passing, and had the party gone on any longer most people would still have been there to see the sun rise. It was nearly four a.m. when Thomas reemerged, thanking everyone once more and letting them know that the night was wrapping up. 

After having said his goodbyes to everyone, Dorian made his way outside. The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the humidity inside. It was pleasant, allowing Dorian’s brain a respite from the thumping music and hectic atmosphere. Just when he had finished dialling the number for a cab, Cullen approached.

“Calling a cab?” he asked. 

“Yeah. You?”

“Mine should be here soon, I booked one before I came.”

“Smart.”

“You’re welcome to share mine, if you like. That way you don’t have to wait out in the cold.”

Dorian mulled it over. He was starting to feel sick, the unfortunate side-effect of alcohol. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

The two of them stood together in silence. Dorian began to shiver, his body largely uncovered. Cullen noticed, and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around him. 

“It’s not much, but… better than leaving you with just a few fig leaves to keep you warm.”

Dorian felt worser by the second, feeling as though he might vomit at any moment. “My coat, I left it inside. Would you get it for me?”

“Of course,” Cullen said. “What does it look like?”

Dorian described the coat and it’s approximate location to him, thanking him profusely. As soon as Cullen had moved out of ear shot, Dorian turned and threw up into a bush. He silently cursed Leliana, but halfheartedly, he knew he wouldn’t have loosened up and enjoyed himself as much if it weren’t for her tempting his wild side. 

Cullen returned moments later, helping Dorian into the coat. 

“The taxi will be here any second now,” he said, still holding on to Dorian. 

 

Only in passing did Dorian remember the rest of the evening. The next time he opened his eyes he was at his home, in bed with the cat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long for this chapter! I have been crazy busy with university stuff, so many essays to write... But Easter break starts tomorrow so I will be able to write more! Thank you for reading, and please enjoy :-)

“Ugh,” Dorian groaned. “My head…”

He rolled over in his bed, and picked up his phone to check the time. “Fuck.” He started work in an hour. Dorian sat up, holding his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he muttered, grimacing in pain. He made his way to the bathroom as quickly as possible, where he took some aspirin that he hoped — prayed — would ease his feeling of general sickness. 

The shower worked wonders, and he felt much better once he had stepped out of it. He brushed his teeth, flossed, and rinsed, examining his teeth in the mirror after each step. Satisfied that they were in impeccable shape, he picked up his razor and got to work tidying up his facial hair. While he did his morning routine, he hummed a tune that followed no pattern, almost forgetting for a brief moment that he felt sick.  

His phone vibrated on the countertop, the strange sound exacerbated by the tiled surface. 

_Dorian, it’s Cullen here. I hope you don’t mind me texting so early but I just wanted to see how you were going. I was afraid to leave you alone, but you insisted that you were okay._

Dorian could not even remember giving the man his number, let alone having Cullen bring him home. A look of horror crossed Dorian’s face as he imagined all the terrible things he may have done while as drunk as he was. 

_I do hope you’ll forgive me for my behaviour last night, I hope I was not too much trouble._

_Not at all, Dorian, in fact you only needed my help getting through the front door._

Either the man was incredibly polite and subtly refusing to admit the truth that Dorian was a mess, or Dorian kept it together far better than he could have imagined. Well done, me, he thought. It wouldn’t do at all to have frightened him off. _Ah, well, in any case thank you for your help. I can promise that I am much more pleasurable company when sober. Would you care to meet up for dinner some time?_

Dorian was not entirely certain if there was anything between them. All of the men that Dorian had had dalliances with in the past were caring, yes, but only to a point. Once the relationship had progressed to the physical stage, all that ended. With Cullen, however, the man seemed so ernest, so sincere, that Dorian could not decide if it was just him being a polite person. Naturally, Dorian found Cullen physically stunning, and had spent a daydream or two picturing the man without his clothes on. 

_Dinner sounds good, although I have no idea where anything is in this town. Perhaps we could meet somewhere close by first?_

In the end, Dorian had organised for Cullen to make his way over to Dorian’s house, and then the two of them would go for a walk together to the restaurant. Once the plans were in place, Dorian caught himself smiling, and for the first time in a long time was looking forward to going out with someone. This was to be the first time that the two of them were going to be together for the sole purpose of spending time with each other, a prospect that at once excited and almost terrified Dorian. They set the date for the coming Thursday night, giving Dorian two days time to mentally prepare. 

His day at work passed by quickly, despite the lack of custom. He would constantly go through conversations and scenarios in his mind, trying to think of all the possible outcomes of the evening. Dorian wasn’t even entirely sure that it was a proper date. He hoped it was, but Dorian’s often pessimistic outlook on men seemed to dampen his hopes just a touch. He had no idea at all that Cullen, too, was thinking about him all day, in his own way.

 

* * *

 

Thursday came too soon, and not soon enough. The days seemed to pass agonisingly slowly for Dorian, until suddenly, it was almost time for the dinner date. Dorian was dressed and ready to go a full hour before the time they had decided on. He paced back and forth around his lounge room, sitting down for a few minutes before getting frustrated and resuming his walk around the room. He checked himself in the mirror, dressing as smartly as he could without coming off as a posturer. He settled on a slim pair of black jeans and burgundy shirt that had tiny feathers printed all over it. 

Dorian was admiring his hind-quarters in the mirror when he heard a car pull up out front of his house. Dorian knew he looked good, the last hour being spent mostly looking at himself in the mirror was evidence of that fact. As soon as Cullen stepped out of his car and began to walk toward Dorian’s house, Dorian’s self-confidence began to fade — a sensation he was not used to.

Cullen made his way to the front door, dressed neatly but casually, and looking positively _wholesome._ He knocked sharply on the door and waited.

It took Dorian a few seconds to stop looking through the blinds and actually open the door. “Cullen, good to see you.” He slipped out through the door, taking care not to let Cullen peek through and see his house in the state that it was. Not that it was messy, though, it just was not particularly impressive, and Dorian liked to have something of a presentation ready for guests. “Shall we be off?”

“Yes, I am actually rather hungry. I hope this place isn’t too far. 

“Not far at all,” replied Dorian, “perhaps, a ten minute walk. Nothing more.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

The two of them stood there, a little awkwardly. Dorian found himself at a loss for what to say, unsure of how to act around Cullen. Dorian was used to showing off in order to impress, but he got the feeling that anything considered as too showy would put Cullen off. He seemed like a man that placed no value on much else outside of the calibre of one’s character, something Dorian felt ill-equipped to handle. He panicked, and patted Cullen on the shoulder, an odd gesture that Dorian regretted the instant he had done it. Thankfully Cullen did not seem to take note of how nervous Dorian was, instead he simply smiled, a soft and gentle thing. Dorian noticed a small scar running from the right side of Cullen’s upper lip, barely noticeable but an important part of the generally hunky aura that Cullen exuded. 

They walked down a few side streets adjoining Dorian’s own, before coming to a narrow path that cut through a park. Large oaks stood on either side, their massive size and canopy above making it look like a long, dark tunnel. The fading sunlight still shone bright enough to cut through the leaves, casting rays of light down onto the ground and making the walkway look like nothing short of a fairy tale. Dorian could not have hoped for better weather, and thanked the universe for giving him such a beautiful evening. 

“Maker, but this is lovely,” Cullen said, looking around as they walked along. 

“I do love this place. I come here quite often.”

“It is rather peaceful. I can scarcely hear a single thing aside from the birds above. Do you spend a lot of time here?”

“I’m not going to lie to you. I mostly walk through here because it is the quickest route to a Chinese restaurant I am rather fond of. But on occasion, I do find myself here for the sole purpose of taking it all in.”

Cullen chuckled. “Then is it reasonable to assume that that is where we’re headed for dinner?”

“It is. And I must warn you, the exterior is quite… well, _shitty._ It may not look like much, or perhaps not even a safe place to eat at all, but I swear by it. I’ve been coming here ever since I came to this town.”

“Oh? You’re not from here?”

“I’ve actually only been here just on seven years. I assume you’re only recently moved here?”

“This week marks my first full month here. I was, that is, my company was, contracted by Thomas to build a large scale office complex. How do you know him?”

“He’s an old friend. We are both quite close.” Dorian carefully deflected some of Cullen’s questions, not intent on revealing to him just how small his friendship circle truly was. 

The trees began to thin, slowly revealing a quiet, lazy looking street with a few small shops lining it. There was a milk bar, a newsagents, and a post office, though it was past closing time for all three of them. A little farther along the footpath was a shop with two large windows taking up the entirety of the storefront. White-painted metal bars covered each window, and the view inside was blocked by some frilly white curtains. 

“We’re here,” said Dorian, waiting for the look of shock to appear on Cullen’s face. 

“Are we… are we gonna go in?” 

“That’s it? No, oh my _goodness_ , this place looks positively _dreadful_!”

“Well, you told me to trust you. I am holding off on passing judgment until I actually taste the food. The building might be lacking, but a kitchen is a kitchen just the same.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks! I must confess, I am rather impressed.”

Dorian walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open for Cullen. He walked in, and for a brief moment Dorian could smell whatever cologne that Cullen was wearing. It was very faint, almost undetectable, and had a scent that Dorian could not place. He must’ve looked dazed, because Cullen was standing in front of him again, asking if he was okay. 

“I, yes. I am fine. Sorry, I just got a little distracted.” Dorian let go of the door, clearing his throat and walking into the reception area of the restaurant. 

It was loud and busy inside, a great number of conversations taking place, but not one of them sounding more audible than the other. Dorian glanced around the room, unable to spot a single free table. 

A woman greeted them, warmly welcoming Dorian and Cullen. “Hello! Welcome to Ocean Garden Chinese!”

“Good evening, Hongxia. Any chance there’s a table for two available?”

Hongxia flicked through a ledger in front of her, and then looked out at the room. “Ayah, sorry, we are all booked out. Do you want takeaway?”

Dorian looked to Cullen, who was busy reading a menu with a look of deep concentration. “Cullen, do you care if we get takeaway?”

“Not at all. Though… we might have trouble carrying it all back. I am quite hungry.”

“I can put it all in a box for you,” replied Hongxia. “You look big and strong. You can carry it. Now, what can I get you?”

Cullen ordered a large combination fried rice, steak with black bean sauce, char shu, lup cheong, and sweet and sour pork. Once he had finished asking for what he wanted, he turned to Dorian. “What are you gonna have?  

“...I will just have the szechuan chicken, and a plain rice.” 

“That comes to seventy four dollars, thank you.”

Dorian was in such a state of shock from the sheer amount of food that Cullen had just ordered that he did not react in time to prevent Cullen from paying for all of the food. He attempted to give Cullen money, at least to pay for his own food, but he refused. 

“If you really feel that bad, you can pay next time.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

The two of them sat by the counter and waited for their food. They mostly talked about what they had done that day, and Dorian learned that Cullen was living in an unfinished house that he was building himself. As soon as the kitchen was done, he promised Dorian that he would have him over for dinner. 

“It must be difficult living without a kitchen. How much else needs to be done?”

“Well, the kitchen really is the only place that needs to be worked on. Most of the other rooms in my house are finished, they just need cleaning and painting, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, I am a lousy painter, and don’t know anyone who can help.” 

It seemed like the perfect opportunity for Dorian to offer himself as the help, but before he could say anything, Hongxia handed Cullen a big box of food. 

Cullen stood up to leave, making his way to the door with Dorian following suit. Before they got to the door, Hongxia took Dorian by the arm and whispered into his ear. 

“I gave you free fortune cookies,” she said, winking at Dorian. She glanced toward Cullen. “He is very handsome. Big, strong.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said, smiling. “Have a good night.”

Despite the setting sun, it was still bright enough that Dorian suggested they eat their dinner in the park on the way back to his house. The air was fresh and cool, a gentle breeze rippling through the leaves on the trees all around them, a pleasant sound that created a relaxing atmosphere. The two men sat and ate, with Cullen managing to eat everything he had ordered in the time that Dorian had finished his own food. 

“So, Dorian, tell me, what do you do with yourself?”

“Well, I work at a bookstore for the time being. I’m hoping to see my own work on shelves there one day. 

“Ah yes, I remember as much from your conversation with Varric. Anything you’re working on now?”

“Unfortunately, no, I seem to have lost my muse for the time being. I am hoping that something comes along and ignites the passion again.”

“Hm. Perhaps these fortune cookies will offer some guidance,” Cullen offered. “Shall we?”

Dorian took a fortune cookie and handed the other one to Cullen. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

The crunching sound of the cookies being broken filled the air. 

“What does yours say?” Cullen asked. 

“An exciting adventure awaits you. Hmm.”

“I got, ‘the man who waits until tomorrow, misses the opportunities of today’.” 

“These things,” said Dorian, scrunching his up, “are too broad to have any significance. Come, let us be off. It’s getting rather cold.” He shoved the fortune into his pocket, and proceeded to clean up their mess, putting everything back into the box so he could easily dispose of it later. 

Most of the walk back to Dorian’s house was done in silence, save for the occasional comment of the loveliness of their surroundings. The two enjoyed each other’s company, and Dorian was finding himself more and more at ease. Spending that evening with Cullen felt like a moment’s rest, like there was not a thing he had to do, or care about, or think, or anything — other than being there, and in that moment. 

Before long, they were standing at Dorian’s door, fumbling for the words to say goodbye.

“I’d like to see you again,” said Cullen, fidgeting with his hands. “That is, of course, only if you want to.”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“How does Sunday sound? We could go see a movie. Or go for another walk?”

“I’d love to.”

Cullen stepped forward, and at the same time, so did Dorian. They both went to hug each other, but ended up a little closer than either of them anticipated. For what seemed like a long time, but in reality was hardly more than a few seconds, they hugged tightly.

“I’ll see you on Sunday, Dorian.”

 “See you then.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff gets baked, and Dorian and Thomas get together for their usual run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian bakes cookies and eats a whole bunch of them. Just a warning for those that need it, otherwise, please enjoy!

“What a perfectly dreadful day,” Dorian muttered, looking out of the window. He pulled the blind open in order to let some light into his home, but the overcast sky above just made it look all the more dreary.

He checked a weather report, and it showed no sign of rain, but just to be safe he sent Thomas a text message to ask if they were still on for their run that afternoon. Moments later, his friend’s reply came through, confirming that the run was still going to take place.

_Weather is shitty, but we can still go for it. Running in the rain can be fun anyway!_

Dorian should have expected as much. Even if it was snowing, Thomas would want to still go for the run. He’d say something along the lines of _it builds character_ , or _don’t wimp out on me Dorian_.

It spontaneously occurred to Dorian that he should bake some cookies. He hadn’t had anything like that in a while, and cookies always do well when presented with a sullen, sunless sky. Cookies and milk, the perfect way to treat oneself.

“Now where did I put that cookbook,” he said, looking through his cupboards.

The cat jumped up onto the bench, and meowed at him.   
“You know you’re not allowed up there missy.”

The cat meowed again.

“Right. I forget that you’ve not a single ounce of care for anything I say.”

For a brief moment, Dorian thought that the cat had smirked. He shook his head, returning to his task.

The cookbook had been slowly shoved to the back of the pantry over many weeks of disuse, a forgotten relic of Dorian’s attempts to be more creative in the kitchen. Cooking was something that he loved doing, as he found himself in a unique state of calm whenever he prepared food. Over time, his own laziness and work schedule prevented him from doing so, causing the cookbook to fade from thought.   
  
It took him just a few seconds of flipping through the pages to decide on making chocolate popcorn cookies, a combination that sounded as delicious as the two things that comprised it. Once they were in the oven, Dorian texted a picture of the cookies being baked to Cullen, along with a simple ‘good morning’ and a happy face.

The two exchanged text messages often, a thing that became more and more frequent as time went by. Dorian had never been much of a texting person, really only doing so when he needed to find something out or organise an event. Now, he found himself texting just to see what Cullen was doing, or how he was going — things that Dorian really only ever thought about for himself. He found the prospect of caring for someone in that way a little daunting.

In the midst of working through his thoughts, the timer went off. Dorian removed the cookies from the oven and turned them out onto a wire rack, admiring how deliciously crispy they looked. They had just started to turn golden on top, and were lovely, soft and chewy on the inside. The melted chocolate created little pockets of sweetness throughout, while the popcorn lent the cookies a unique texture and subtle saltiness. Dorian sat at the counter, intent on tasting but a single cookie.

Partway through his third, Dorian’s phone buzzed with a message notification.

_I am deeply jealous. Would you consider saving me some?_ was Cullen’s response.

_I doubt they will last until then. Making more though, that is a thing I would be glad to do._

_I look forward to it._

Cullen had attached a picture of himself to the last message, of him smiling and giving the thumbs up. Dorian giggled, only slightly at first, but progressing into more potent laughter the longer he looked at the goofy picture. Cullen looked to be covered in saw dust, and had a large smear of dirt across his right cheek. The top of his shirt was visible in the picture, a dirty white thing that had several tears around the neck.

In return, Dorian sent Cullen a picture of himself eating a cookie. It took Dorian several attempts (and as many changes of lighting and location) to find the perfect picture to send. After the picture had been delivered, Dorian wondered if Cullen made many, if any at all, attempts at taking a good picture before sending it to Dorian.

The cat meowed, coming over to sit at Dorian’s side. She purred as she nuzzled up against him.

“I know, he’s handsome. Believe me, I know.” Dorian sighed, picking up the crumbs of the cookie he was eating with his fingertip.

Another message from Cullen buzzed through. _Looking good. I better get back to work. Enjoy your afternoon :-)_

Dorian put half of the remaining cookies into a bag for Thomas, and put the rest away in his pantry. He prayed for the inner strength to at least let them last a few days, but Dorian had a particular weakness for such sweets.

And, just like that, Dorian found himself without anything more to do. It was a strange sensation; figuring out there was no more that he needed to take care of on that particular day. He was now stuck in a strange sort of limbo, unable to fill the gap in time between the current moment and when he was to meet his friend later in the afternoon. Dorian got up from the bar stool he was sitting on and surveyed his lounge room. Apart from the general clutter that lay about, Dorian found many things that were useful for passing time. A few random DVDs were piled beside the TV, along with an unopened bluray player that Thomas had given him. He briefly considered watching a few episodes of Buffy, but that idea fell by the wayside when he spotted his collection of records sitting by the cabinet.

Music on vinyl was one of the few luxuries (outside of desserts, of course) that Dorian permitted himself. The soft crackle sounded familiar to him, reassuring even, an assertion that yes, things do last beyond the time of their inception. He’d often play them loud, loud enough that all sounds from the outside world became inaudible, and he’d close his eyes and imagine himself at the scene of the performance. There was one particular performance that had moved him beyond all else, stirring up wistful feelings of losing time, of being alone and not being able to share the things he loved.

“Ah, Judy, how talented you were,” Dorian said, brushing the dust off of the jacket.

He gently eased the record out of its case, and set it down equally as gently onto the player. The machine whirred to life, the crackle filling the room before the voice of Judy Garland flooded out. Dorian sang along quietly as he tidied up his house, starting with the lounge room. He returned the DVDs to their cupboard, dusted along the tops of shelves, and occasionally stopped for a little dance when the right song came on. He put his PlayStation controllers away and returned the game discs to their rightful covers, a simple act that helped Dorian feel more at ease. He did prefer a tidy home, and for the most part it was — but lately Dorian had felt too tired to do much of anything productive. This particular day felt different, and Dorian cleaned with a zing in his step that only served to make him even more content.

A loud knocking came from his front door, prompting Dorian to look at the clock. It was already time for his run with Thomas.

“I’ll be right out,” Dorian shouted back, scrambling toward his bedroom.

He shoved his legs through his pants, almost ripping right through them in an effort to get them on hastily. His top was much easier to put on, and in seconds he was out the door.

“Kept me waiting long enough. Ready to go?” Thomas said, winking. “Liked your music by the way.”

Dorian nodded, locking his door before following Thomas down his driveway. “She really was quite talented.”

The two of them started a slow jog down the street, rounding a corner and following the main road down to the local park.   
  
“So,” Thomas began, drawing out the word, looking at Dorian slyly. “How’s it going?”

“Hm? Just fine, I suppose, I baked some cookies —remind me to give you yours when we get back— and I cleaned up my house finally, which was nice.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good, but I meant with Cullen.”

“Cullen?” Dorian stopped running. “Well, things are good.”

“And? That’s it?”

“Well, we’ve only been together alone once since the party, so there hasn’t been much, well… muchness.”

Thomas placed his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Seriously, I can tell that there is something more than you’re letting on. As an old friend once said, _I can feel it in me waters._ ”

“That’s disgusting, but you aren’t exactly wrong.”

Thomas smirked. “Girl, spill! Tell me everything.” Thomas was particularly skilled at going from caring friend to gossipy bitch in a matter of seconds, a trait that Dorian was particularly fond of. Sometimes. The two resumed their run, having reached a wider path that was surrounded by lush greenery on either side.

“Well, he’s great. Almost too great, in fact, and I can’t help but wonder if I pale in comparison. I’ve never been unsure in this way before. I’ve always been certain of myself, and I know I am desirable in almost every way, but with Cullen, he looks so perfect and sweet and kind and—”

“Dorian.”

“Yes?”

“Listen to yourself. Think about what you’re saying to me. You know you’re fantastic, and you know any man would be lucky to have you.”

“Yes, but—”

“No, no buts. You are unconditionally brilliant.”

“I understand what you’re getting at, but I am scared all the same. Cullen is the first person who has made me feel like this, and I am worried that he doesn’t actually like me, that he is just too polite to say so.”

“You’re certainly right there. The Cullen-being-too-polite part anyway. Where you’re wrong, though, is in him not liking you. He may be kind, but Cullen does not waste time. If there was nothing between you two, then you two wouldn’t be going out again.”

Dorian frowned, deep in thought. “I suppose you’re right.”  
  
“I am always right.”

“Hold up a moment. How did you know Cullen and I were going to meet up again?”

“Oh, uh, well, Leliana told me.”

Dorian skidded to a halt, alarm evident upon his face. He liked being the topic of conversation only when he was around to hear it. “And how does _she_ know?!”

“Maker, I swear that woman knows everything. Like she has ears everywhere. Last night we had a wine and cheese party, and inevitably, you and Cullen were the topic of conversation.”

Dorian threw his hands up in defeat. “So I can assume a full performance report of our first sexual encounter?”

“I bloody hope so. You know I love hearing that stuff.”  
  
“Ugh.”

Thomas chuckled. “I’m only joking. Sort of.”

A small smile spread across Dorian’s face.

“In all honesty, Dorian, I want you to know that I think everything with Cullen will be fine. And if it doesn’t end up that way, well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? It would be unfortunate, and a bit sad, but I know that you will bounce back, because you always do. You always deal with what you’re given, something I myself am not so good at. You have strength in you, and I admire that about you. And I know Cullen can see that too.”

Dorian smiled, unable to reply aptly. Thomas almost always seemed to know what to say at just the right time, and Dorian could see him being a great leader. No wonder he had so many employees that adored him.

“Besides, I want you two to work out. Apparently Cullen is a monster, and I wanna know precisely what he is packing.”

“There it is. This discussion is done.” Dorian started jogging again, with Thomas following suit.

Thomas laughed. “I’m just joking.”

“You are not even in the slightest bit joking.”

“You’re bloody right.”

For the next few minutes, they jogged in silence. Dorian glanced sideways at his friend, who was never quiet for much more than a few seconds at a time. Thomas seemed to be planning something, and Dorian had no idea what. He only hoped that he found out sooner rather than later.

The path they had taken was very quiet for most of the run, but quite scenic. Part of the track wove around the outside of a quarry that had fallen into disuse and formed a small lake. The water was still, reflecting the trees that surrounded it like a deep blue mirror.

Thomas stopped running and leaned against a rail that overlooked the water below. “Can I ask you something?”

Dorian came up beside him. “Sure,” he replied.

“You really do like Cullen?”

For a moment, Dorian said nothing. He mulled it over, considering it for some time before giving his response. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Because we’re going camping next weekend, and you’re coming. Cullen is too. So are Josie, Cassandra and Leliana. And Bull.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m in.”

“Cool beans, and don’t worry about a tent, I am sharing with Bull so you can take mine. I think Cullen is bringing his, and Cassandra has hers, though that is the size of a hotel. I swear it’s like she ripped it right out of Hermione’s magical bag.”

“I will have to make sure it’s fine with work, but I believe it will be. How long for?”

“Just four days, though we will leave early on the last morning.”

“I look forward to it. It will be nice to get away from here, just for a little while.”

Thomas explained the rest of the trip to Dorian, summarising the plans and how they were going to get there. It didn’t take long, and after they were done talking about it they finished their run. Thomas took his cookies before he left, declaring that they were ‘the best damned things in all of creation’. Dorian saw his friend off, and spent the rest of his evening thinking about the camping trip with great excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! The cookies are a totally delicious recipe that I got off of a friend, so I am more than happy to share the recipe if anyone wants to make them. And for those curious, the song that Dorian listened to by Judy Garland was called 'By Myself' and was one of the last songs she recorded for the Judy Garland show. It's on YouTube and is really quite amazing, so I highly recommend looking that up too!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian gets a little bad news, but then some good news. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More food warnings, yo. I feel like, just to be safe, there'll be some mention of food in every chapter, so I won't put a warning beforehand after this.

Dorian woke to his cat walking back and forth across his body. She paced for a few moments that seemed to stretch out forever, until she decided that his face was the best place for her to rest. 

“If you always choose to lie across my face, why must you walk all over me beforehand?” Dorian shoved her aside, and she meowed, looking horribly offended. “Oh, I’m sorry your majesty.”

The cat gave Dorian a most foul look, a threatening glare that briefly terrified him. Then, she meowed again, as if all was forgiven, and went to sleep. Dorian turned on his salt lamp, not wanting the harsh white light of the room itself to disturb his cat any more than he had. The soft lighting made the whole space look much more inviting, lending it a feeling of warmth that it physically lacked. Dorian got up from his bed and opened his cupboard. 

Outside, it was fairly chilly, and his phone said that the cold weather was only going to persist before becoming even colder that evening. The cold weather explained his cat’s particularly strong need for proximity that morning, at least. Dorian put his work uniform on and covered up with a thick coat that was a darker shade of navy blue, which went wonderfully well when layered with the plain white shirt and beige trousers of his uniform. 

Dorian got ready in record time, with enough to spare that he could actually fit in a bowl of cereal for breakfast. The thought of having cereal sounded appealing until he actually looked at what he had available. Corn flakes and wheat pillows were all that remained.

“Wheat pillows? I don’t even remember buying these,” he said, picking them up. At least they had not yet expired, which, unfortunately, he could not say about the corn flakes. “Wheat pillows it is.”

When he pulled away the box of cereal, Dorian spotted a bottle of maple syrup and decided to use that to spruce up his morning meal. With that, at least, it would be much less depressing. 

It was in the midst of his first mouthful that he received a text from Cullen, asking if he was free that evening. 

_Kitchen’s finished! Are you doing anything tonight?_

_Just work until 5, then nothing._

_Come over! I will cook you dinner, first meal prepared in the kitchen. Can’t promise anything fancy though._

_After what I just had for breakfast, anything is fancy. I will drive over after work!_

The two finalised the details, and Dorian noticed that Cullen’s address was in the part of the town where the more well-to-do people lived, close by to a train station and soon to be shopping mall, and not too far from where Thomas lived. Dorian quickly shoved a change of clothes into a bag, and pondered on whether or not it was too presumptuous to bring a toothbrush. He decided to leave it behind, they did say dinner after all. 

Satisfied that he was prepared for the day (and evening) ahead, Dorian locked up and left for work. He pulled in to the staff car park, and immediately noticed that something was not quite right. The lights inside the store were on, and Dorian knew that he was the only staff member rostered on to open. He parked, and did an awkward half-run to the back door which was wide open. He entered, and immediately relaxed when he saw the manager and her wife standing together talking. 

“Dorian,” Sera said, smiling. “How are you?”

“Good, quite good. And yourself?”

“I’m fine, yeah. Listen. Got some bad news for you.”

Dorian swallowed nervously. 

“What she means to say,” interjected Dagna, “is that there is some bad news, but for all of us. We are closing down.”

“Oh,” Dorian said. 

“It’s been a long time coming, that’s for sure,” Dagna continued. “We are still going to be open for the next month or so, until we can sell off all our stock. So until then, you’re still going to be working your usual hours.”

“That’s… fine,” replied Dorian. “Thank you for giving me a heads up.”

Sera seemed satisfied with the conversation and walked off, waving goodbye to Dorian as she exited out the back door. Dagna made to follow suit, but stopped just short of exiting. “We wouldn’t have done this unless we really needed to.”

“I know. I have plenty of time to figure out what I’ll do, in any case. You have my thanks, Dagna.”

“You’re welcome. And sorry again.”

Dorian waved her out, smiling as best he could. Once they were safely out of earshot, Dorian let out a few choice swear words.

He ran through dozens of worst case scenarios in his head, panicking over the prospect of being jobless. He paced around the store, absentmindedly picking things up and putting them down, trying to come up with a plan for the immediate future. When he thought about it, it was not too huge of a problem — just a time sensitive one. He resolutely decided to worry as little as he possibly could, and to begin searching for a new job once he returned from his camping trip. He figured that the break would be good to clear his head and get him ready for a fresh start.

It had never occurred to Dorian that he was getting better at dealing with his problems. Once, he would have panicked and continued to do so until he either tired himself out or Thomas showed him that there was really nothing so big as to warrant a breakdown. He successfully calmed himself today, and had his dinner with Cullen to look forward to. And, hopefully, many more dinners with Cullen beyond that. Maybe even a few breakfasts. Dorian’s train of thought proceeded to lead him to a place wherein he walked out of his bedroom in the morning to find Cullen cooking breakfast in nothing but his underwear. Mmmm, Dorian thought. 

The day turned out to be quite a busy one, due in no small part to the ‘fifty percent off everything’ sign pasted upon the front window. Before he knew it, it was time for the store to close. As he moved about performing the end-of-the-day tasks, he felt a sense of calm flowing through him. There was sadness, there, too, but not in the way that Dorian expected. In fact, it was best described as something bittersweet, for though he loved working at the book store, it’s demise opened up a realm of possibility for him. He found himself _looking forward_ to the future, something he cannot say he’d done in a very long time, if ever. 

_I am leaving work now, I will be at your house shortly. See you soon!_  

Dorian went to his car quickly, immediately grateful that he had brought his coat. Just as he exited the store, thunder cracked overhead and rain began to pour. It fell lightly for a few minutes, before progressing into a severe storm, strong enough that Dorian felt a little nervous about being on the road. The windscreen wipers on his car were working as hard as they could, until one of them just broke off and fell down to the side of the car and then on to the road. For much of the remaining drive, he deliberated on whether or not it was worth it to use the heater. Knowing the car, it would probably not survive that long. But, by the time that Dorian had decided that being warm was worth the smell, he had arrived.

The house itself was lovely, quaint even. It was considerably smaller than Dorian initially expected, but the more he thought on it, the easier it became to see Cullen living there. He approached the front door and reached out to knock, but before he could hit the wood, the door swung open.

“Dorian, come in!” said Cullen, looking rather exasperated.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Fine, fine, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you… sure?” Dorian asked, stepping inside. Immediately, his nostrils were hit by a peculiar odour. It was like every kind of herb was burning at once, not quite smelling horrible but not quite working together either. Once he adjusted to the smell, Dorian was able to survey the room he found himself in. The outside of the house belied the openness of it’s interior, the space long and wide with lots of natural lighting thanks to the many large windows that lined the back wall. The walls were mostly made of wood, while the far wall was constructed of mud bricks. 

While Dorian looked around, Cullen sprinted back into the kitchen and got to work stirring various pots and pans. 

“Do you need any help?” Dorian asked.

Cullen turned for a second, shaking his head. “I got this.”

Dorian took a seat at the counter, watching in amusement as Cullen fumbled around the kitchen. Dorian could swear that Seconds later, Cullen opened a pot on the stove and it burst into flame, prompting Dorian to get up and help get things under control. 

Once the fire was out, and the kitchen space cleaned, they found that little of the meal was salvageable. Dorian had a hard time figuring out what exactly Cullen was trying to prepare, as the various things bubbling away were unrecognisable. 

Cullen threw aside the tea towel that he was holding and sat down on a stool, looking utterly defeated. “I am sorry.”

“It is fine,” Dorian replied. It took every ounce of self-control that Dorian had not to laugh at the mess that had been made. “Shall I make something instead?”

Cullen nodded. “Go ahead. I told you I was a lousy chef.”

“I’ve never seen a dish hold flame quite like that just did. May I ask what you were trying to make?”

“Chicken parmigiana,” replied Cullen, staring down at his hands. He looked like a little boy who had just been told off for doing something wrong. 

For a split second, Dorian took a sideways glance across the kitchen and took in the multitude of pots and pans. He wondered exactly what kind of parmigiana Cullen was cooking. If Dorian was not mistaken, parmigiana was a rather simple dish, requiring next to no cookware at all. 

“You can try again next time, though perhaps with something a little less… exotic. But enough of that! What have we got to work with?” Dorian asked. 

Cullen pointed to the pantry. “There isn’t much, but use what you need.”

Inside, Dorian found a stale breadstick, some dried herbs and a few cloves of garlic. “Hmmm. How does garlic bread sound?”

“Good, actually. I love garlic bread.”

“Lovely. Just as well, I don’t think we could have made much else.”

 

* * *

 

Garlic bread, fortunately, does not take long to make. Moments later, they were sitting at the front of Cullen’s fireplace with warm toasty garlic bread on their plates.

“Oh Maker, Dorian, this is amazing,” Cullen mumbled around a mouthful of food. 

Dorian nodded. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. This is honestly delicious. I could eat this every day. Or even just all the time without stopping.”

“Uh-uh, you’d get fat.”

“No, why would I get fat?”

“Bread makes you fat.”

“Bread makes you fat!?” Cullen shouted, crumbs falling from his lips.

 Stifling a laugh, Dorian nodded. “Unfortunately, yes, like most good things in life, garlic bread is not the best thing for us. A pity, really.”

“Hmph.” Cullen looked at the bread on his plate wistfully, as though he had been betrayed by a close and trusted companion. “A pity. Never mind, shall we watch a movie instead? I’ve got quite a few that Josephine lent me.” Cullen stood and walked over to a cupboard by the tv and opened it. “I’ve got Pretty Woman, Legally Blonde, Terminator… and this one weird one called Grand Budapest Hotel that Josie gave a glowing recommendation.”

“I’ve seen all the others, let’s watch that. I’ve heard naught but good things.”

The movie was fantastic, a fun and exciting film that the two men enjoyed thoroughly. At the midpoint of the film, Cullen walked off to get a blanket. Dorian’s legs were stretched out on the couch, and when Cullen sat down again, he placed his hand on Dorian’s leg under the blanket. 

Neither of them acknowledged it, which is how Dorian preferred it, but he could not deny that it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The two slowly got closer to each other, so that by the time the film finished, Dorian was lying down with his legs in Cullen’s lap. Even as the credits rolled, neither of them moved. They simply sat together watching the names move along the screen and listening to the delightful soundtrack of the film.

Outside, the rain was not letting up, and Dorian knew that it would not be safe for him to drive home without the left windscreen wiper. It was still fairly early in the evening, all things considered, so Dorian suggested that they watch another movie. 

“Sure, I’d love to,” replied Cullen. He patted Dorian’s legs before standing up and walking over to the DVD cabinet. “How about Crimson Peak? I’ve been wanting to see that, but it’s too scary to watch alone.”

“You? Afraid of ghosts?” Dorian replied, bemusement written upon his face. “I’d never have picked that.”

“Yeah. I, uh, had a weird experience once. With a ghost. Or spirit. Or something. I mean, it was probably nothing, but it left me uncomfortable with these things.”

Dorian almost asked about the incident, but decided that it would be best saved for a later date. They were in a relaxed mood, and did not need the agitation of a real-life ghost story to kill the vibe. 

“Do not worry, I will keep you safe from any spirits that would do you harm.”

Cullen sat back down after putting the movie on, but this time leaned a little more toward Dorian. The movie was not scary, but visually stunning. Dorian tried his best to stay awake, but the warmth of the fire and the blanket proved very difficult to fight, and soon enough he had fallen asleep.

Dorian’s unplanned snooze was interrupted by a gentle shake from Cullen. 

“Dorian, I’m really sorry to wake you, but my legs have gone to sleep.”

“Huh-what?” Dorian sat up quickly, a startled expression on his face. For a brief moment, he was uncertain of his location. “Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry. I must’ve been more tired than I realised.”

“It is no trouble, the movie did finish rather late.” 

Outside, the rain did not show any sign of letting up. In fact, it looked much like it had gotten _worse,_ becoming so heavy as to make it difficult to see very far at all. Dorian stood up and moved to a window, gazing outside. He quite enjoyed the rain, usually, but he wanted to get home sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, his car would most likely not survive the return trip.

“Cullen, I really hate to impose, but would it be okay if I stayed the night? My car, you see, is rather dangerous, particularly in this weather. I happened to lose a windscreen wiper on my way over. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to survive the night so that I can come see you again.”

“Oh, uh — of course. No trouble at all. I, um, I can set up the couch for you if you like. It’s— it’s really quite comfortable, you know.”

“That’s perfectly alright,” Dorian replied, eyebrow raising in curiosity. Even in the low lighting, Dorian could see that Cullen’s cheeks were flushed with redness. Just what on earth did Cullen think Dorian wanted?

“Right. I will go and get you a blanket and some pillows.” Cullen hurried off down to the back room, where Dorian could hear him rummaging through some cupboards. 

While he had the room to himself, Dorian took the time to look at the photos that were dotted along the walls. There were a few of Cullen with what Dorian assumed were his friends, and a couple with Thomas and Josephine, as well as one of Cassandra holding him in a headlock. He smiled at a photo of him with Leliana, and in the background of the picture he could see Josie and Cassandra pulling off an amazing photobomb. The one that caught his eye and held him there, however, was one of Cullen with another man and two women that he did not know. They all looked remarkably beautiful but shared a few common features that marked them as siblings. Dorian looked closer at the picture, and noticed that Cullen did not yet have his scar in the photo, and that he looked a little softer around the edges. 

“They’re my brother and sisters,” Cullen said, surprising Dorian. “There’s Branson, and Mia, and the one on the left is Rosalie.” He walked to the couch and set about putting the blankets out properly on the bed, ensuring that the pillow was nice and plump. 

“Are you close?”

“Yes, but not especially. After we lost our parents, they wanted us all to stick together.”

“I… I am sorry. That must have been very difficult.”

“It was… a horrible that accident took our parents. I just couldn’t bear to stay in the family home, not without them there. It felt like every room I went in, I had to bury them again, and I just couldn’t do it.” Cullen became quiet. He wiped at his eyes, a small motion that Dorian wished was not necessary. “How about you? Have you got any family?”

“Me? No, I lost my parents, too. Or, rather, they lost me. They wanted a perfect son, and they did anything they could to mould me to that vision.” He thought about the cruelty he experienced at the hands of his parents, trying to maintain control over his emotions lest he end up a blubbering mess. He tried to speak more, but his voice stuck in his throat. It took a few moments for him to continue speaking. “But, I am okay now. They don’t matter.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment, neither one looking at each other, before Cullen pulled Dorian into a tight hug. Dorian hugged back, just as fiercely, a hug unlike any other that Dorian had experienced before. They stepped apart, and each saw tears in the others eyes. They both laughed, wiping them away with the backs of their hands. 

“Enough theatrics for the night, I think. We should sleep.”

“Indeed,” replied Cullen, smiling. “See you in the morning, Dorian.”

“See you in the morning.”

 

Cullen disappeared into the darkness at the end of the hall, leaving Dorian alone, but happy. As he lay his head down upon the pillow, he smiled. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening too fast, and not fast enough. Dorian feels a little warmer than he is used to.

Rain no longer poured outside, but rather had given way to a beautiful morning sun. A few birds chattered in the trees outside, while some pranced about at the grass below, pecking at the earth and drawing up worms. Dorian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up on the couch, blinking groggily. his nose picked up a most delicious scent, of maple syrup and bacon, and what was either pancakes or waffles. His gaze followed his nose, and he turned to see Cullen cooking away at the stovetop. Much to Dorian’s surprise, nothing was on fire.

“Good morning, Dorian,” said Cullen, noticing that his friend had awoken. “Sleep alright?”

“Quite well, actually,” he replied. “The rain does wonders for me.”

“It is quite lovely indeed. Fancy some pancakes for breakfast?”

Dorian moseyed on over to the bench and leaned against it, looking at the food before him. The bacon had been cooked perfectly, looking lovely and crisp, with the unmistakable stickiness of the maple syrup glaze. Cullen pushed them to the side of the plate in order to make room for the pancakes that he slid out of the pan, looking quite pleased with himself and his success.

“I have to say, Cullen, this looks nothing short of incredible.”

“Thank you. It’s a family recipe, actually. My mother used to make these for us when we were younger, and I thought you might like them.”

“I certainly do.” Dorian picked up the knife and fork that Cullen had set down in front of him, and began to eat. 

The meal certainly was cooked perfectly, and there were a few interesting flavours that Dorian could not quite pick but loved all the same. He took the time to savour each and every taste he experienced, finding the meal to be absolutely divine. A few moments later, Cullen sat down with his own plate, and the two ate together, marvelling at the success of Cullen’s morning venture into the culinary arts.

Once Dorian had finished his meal, he carried his plate and cutlery to the sink and happened to notice a charred black heap in the bin. Dorian could not tell what it was, at first, but on a second glance, he realised it must have been Cullen’s first attempt at making their breakfast. 

“You really didn’t have to do this,” said Dorian, smiling at Cullen.

“It was no trouble. I haven’t had pancakes like this in a long time. Not quite as good as at home, but they’ll do for now.”

“Well they are much appreciated. It’s been a while since I had a breakfast as good as this.”

“Nothing beats a nice, home cooked meal. According to my mother, anyway.”

“Quite so.”

“So, are you doing much today?” asked Cullen around a mouthful of food. Crumbs fell from his mouth as he spoke.

“Not really, I just need to get a few things for the camping trip next week. Which reminds me, Thomas spoke to you about that, yes?

“He did. I find myself quite looking forward to it.” Cullen took his empty plate to the sink and started washing up. 

“I will try and get down to the gym too, if time permits. How about yourself?”

“Lots of work that needs to be done. Now that this place is finished, I need to get all the paperwork sorted for my next job.”

“Ah, lovely. It pains me to say it, but I really must be going now, if I'm to get anything done today.” 

Cullen laughed. “I am sure we will see each other again soon. It was lovely seeing you, Dorian.”

“You too.”

Cullen turned away from the sink, holding his soapy hands in the air. He walked up to Dorian and gave him a brief hug. “Thanks for coming over.”

“A pleasure.”

Of all the things Dorian had considered about the night before, the one that he thought about the least was the fact that he would be leaving Cullen’s house the morning after feeling a bright light of happiness shining within him. As he walked to his car, watched by Cullen, Dorian wondered what exactly the last night had meant: both to himself, and in terms of his relationship with Cullen. He had stayed the night, but not slept with him. They had hugged, but never kissed. And most importantly, they had confided in each other, and shed tears over similar losses that had left holes in their lives. So, on the drive back to his home, Dorian could not help but smile, and he carried that smile the entire way without faltering. 

By the time Dorian stood at his front door, he had decided that he would work hard for Cullen. Not because anything Cullen had done suggested he would be demanding, but because Dorian wanted to bring the same feeling to Cullen as Cullen did to him. Dorian was not entirely sure of what all of this meant, yet, but he knew one thing. He was starting to see his own future, and he was glad for it to be coming. 

And so, Dorian sat at his computer, and began to write. The words came slowly, at first, but then the words turned to sentences, and the sentences to paragraphs. He wrote of a meeting between a hospice carer and the man he was charged with taking care of, and the tragedy that followed. He was not yet sure where the story would end, but was very certain of how it would begin. Before he knew it, most of the day had gone, and Dorian was left with no time at all to go shopping for camping gear. He could hardly say he was displeased with the turn of events, so after fixing himself a quick dinner and feeding the cat, he resumed writing until he could write no more. 

 

* * *

 

The next day, Dorian was woken up once more by a hungry cat. She walked on his face, which Dorian ignored at first, but began to meow louder and louder until finally Dorian had no choice but to get up and give her some food. 

Dorian groggily made his way to the cat’s food bowl, where she meowed expectantly. He took a tin from the shelf, squinting at the label. “Salmon and tuna today.” The cat meowed, sounding very excited. “You really are a spoiled girl.” He emptied the contents into her bowl, and he’d barely finished before she dove in and began to eat — or, more appropriately, devour.

The first hour of the day was slow, filled up with the mundanity of being a human. Dorian ate, cleaned his teeth, showered, washed the dishes, and made his bed. He dressed appropriately for the cool weather outside, and as he stepped out the door, he looked back at his computer and promised he would write some more that evening. 

All that Dorian needed for the trip was food and a few other toiletries. If they were on sale, he’d also pick up some candles and mosquito repellant. He’d arrived at the supermarket just after they opened, getting in and out without a fuss. He’d managed to find candles that were both mosquito repelling as well as on sale, which pleased him greatly. 

He took the shopping home and unloaded, looking at his purchases. “Still got several days to go…” he muttered to himself. Dorian wanted to text Cullen but decided to wait a while, not wanting to come across as too eager. Not that he thought Cullen would find it annoying of course, but he was worried that it would interrupt whatever he was doing. 

So, much like the day before, Dorian sat at his computer and wrote until the moon was high in the sky.  

The next few days passed both torturously slowly, and alarmingly fast. While Dorian was at work, time felt at a standstill. He had no chance to shop for his camping gear, and the day of his departure rapidly approached. He and Cullen texted occasionally throughout the days, but busy schedules prevented them from seeing each other. Indeed, on many occasions, Dorian caught himself thinking of Cullen, and would often be staring off into space while thinking of him. 


	8. THE FIRST DAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Car rides and camping trips are what is going down. This is the first day of the trip.

Before he knew it, the day he was to leave for the camping trip had arrived. Dorian checked everything he’d packed, checked it once more, and then checked it again, just to be sure. He confirmed with Thomas that he could have the spare tent, and once that was organised, he took the time to book his cat into a cattery. Though he shouldn’t be spending so much money on her, he wanted to ensure that she had the best care available in his absence. The cat was Dorian’s lifeline, and on more than one occasion she had kept him going when not much else did. 

Thomas had kept in touch regarding the camping trip, and was even going to loan him the supplies he still needed. Dorian had arranged to travel up with Cullen as well, so there was very little left for him to do outside of wait for his ride to the campsite. When Cullen did arrive, the morning had started to warm up, so Dorian quickly changed into more suitable clothing for the drive. 

“Morning, Dorian. You’re looking a little more casual than I’ve come to expect from you,” Cullen said with a laugh.

“Yes, well, I do hate long car rides, so I wanted to be as comfortable as possible.” _And these gym pants make my butt look amazing._

“No less handsome, though.”

The two men exchanged an awkward glance before Cullen cleared his throat and helped Dorian load his gear into the trunk of the car.

Dorian’s phone emitted a sharp sound, indicating a text, and he opened it to see a message from Thomas saying that he’d arrive at the campsite shortly. 

“Thomas’ll be there soon,” said Dorian, relaying the information to Cullen. “We’d better get going. He can be a bit of a drama queen when people take too long.”

“Tell me about it,” replied Cullen. 

After that, the drive was easy, their conversation flowing naturally as if they could never run out of things to say to each other. Music played quietly in the background as they discussed anything that popped into their minds, meaning that the drive felt not long at all.

 

* * *

 

The campgrounds were a maze of dense shrubbery that made walking anywhere but the paths impossible. Dorian had in his hands a crudely drawn map provided by Thomas to guide them to their destination, which, if they were walking in the right direction, was only moments away. Thankfully, and, admittedly, to Dorian’s surprise, a familiar laugh could be heard in the distance, the strength of which seemed to grow with each footstep.

“Bull, stop!” shouted Thomas, waving what looked to be a stick in the air. “This is the bloody rod you need, not that one. The instructions say rod A needs to pass through loop A, not loop AA!”

“I’ll give you a rod in a minute,” Bull shouted back. 

Josephine and Leliana sat in front of a lovely tent, sipping from some beautiful wine glasses and picking at a cheeseboard, laughing heartily at all the mistakes the two men were making. 

Cullen and Dorian stepped into the clearing. Josie and Leliana rushed up to greet them, and upon a closer look Dorian could see tears of laughter lining their eyes. 

“Boys, welcome,” said Josie, beaming. 

“Yes, come sit,” added Leliana, pulling them toward her tent and patting the chair beside hers. “Josie brought us the most lovely cheeses, and some delicious wine.”

“And I see that Bull and Thomas are the entertainment?” replied Cullen. “I better go help them out.”

“I’ve no idea about tents…” said Dorian, transfixed by the failings of Thomas and Bull, “so I will stick with you, Leliana.”

Leliana and Josie looped their arms through Dorian’s and guided him to their tent where a seat was already waiting for him. In mere seconds, a deliciously fragrant glass of red wine was in Dorian’s hand. He swirled it about in delight, admiring the deep red of the wine, before taking a sip and sighing in pleasure. 

“They’ve been at this for an hour,” said Josie, indicating with her glass toward the heap of cloth at Thomas’ feet. “I’d offer to help, but…”

“…this is far more amusing,” continued Leliana. “Thomas is a frequent camper. You’d think he’d have it learned by now. Where’s your tent, then?”

“Oh. Thomas has brought me his spare.” 

Josie leaned in and whispered something into Leliana’s ear, but whatever it was, Dorian could not hear it. It did, however, elicit a small chuckle from Leliana who placed her hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Thomas has played you for a fool, I’m afraid,” she said, a faint smile still upon her face. 

Dorian scowled and stood up from his chair, marching straight toward Thomas who was still waving a tent rod around in the air.

“Thomas,” snapped Cullen, shielding his face from the steel whirring through the air, “that rod is meant for _this_ hole,” he said, shaking a part of the tent in Dorian’s face. 

“Heh, I’ll bet it is,” replied Bull, chuckling at his own comment. Thomas used the rod to whip Bull, who only laughed harder. “Save the whipping for later,” he added with a wink.

Cullen turned bright red, rushing away and heading toward his own pack. “I better set up my tent. Dorian, see if you can help. I’ve all but given up, I’m afraid.”

Dorian snatched the rod out of Thomas’ hands and tossed it aside. “Leliana and Josie have kindly informed me that I am without a tent for the weekend,” he said, eyeing Thomas suspiciously. 

“Oh, uh…” Thomas began, a smirk spreading across his face. “Yes, I forgot. I guess you’ll have to sleep with Cullen then, in his tent.” Thomas nodded toward the man, who seemed mere moments away from having a fully set up tent. It was small, but sturdy looking, plain and without any of the frills one may come to expect from modern camping equipment. In fact, it looked as though the tent had passed through many generations of use, and was well suited to many more.

“You’re a bloody bastard, you know that,” snarled Dorian. In truth, he _was_ okay with sharing Cullen’s tent, and even looked forward to it, but he did not appreciate Thomas’ meddling. Not entirely, anyway. 

“I am, and you love it,” replied Thomas. “Now, can you help us set up this tent or do I have to concede to the ladies and have them do it?”

“You’ve made a fair mess of this, you realise,” replied Dorian. “I’m not much of a camper.”

 

* * *

 

It took the two women but several minutes to erect the tent, which they were all too happy to point out every so often for the rest of the afternoon. With all the tents set up, Bull proclaimed that it was time to get the fire going, so he charged off into the trees with Cullen in search of suitable firewood. As the sun began to set, an unmistakable rustling sound came from out between the trees.

Turning to face the sounds, Dorian, Josie and Leliana spotted Cassandra emerging from the shrubbery. She carried a large pack on her back, and propped herself up with a walking stick. They each exchanged a brief hug, and upon closer inspection, Dorian noticed that her face and arms were covered in small cuts and bruises, appearing as though she had undergone some kind of fight on the way over. 

“Cassandra, what happened to your… face..?” asked Dorian, concern written all over him. 

Cassandra snickered. “You’d not believe a word I’d say,” she replied. 

Now that everyone had arrived, Dorian began to prepare the evening meal. Cullen and Bull had returned with enough firewood to last the entire trip, and by the time the food was ready to be cooked, an impressive fire was burning away at the centre of the campsite. Cassandra had dragged some logs over and arranged them around the fire so that there were enough seats for each of them, and for a few brief minutes, the companions sat and ate in silence. 

As they finished up eating, Leliana fetched a small ukulele from her tent and returned to her seat. She gave it a few haphazard strums, before settling into a rhythm and singing a song. It was quite beautiful to listen to, thought Dorian, but truth be told he could not quite make out what the song was about. He was unable to avert his eyes from the golden-haired man sitting opposite him. Cullen appeared deep in thought, his eyes closed, swaying ever so slightly along to the sound of Leliana’s music. The light of the fire gave him an even more gentle appearance, the soft glow illuminating his entire face. 

To Dorian’s left, Thomas cleared his throat, and when Dorian looked over, Thomas raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

Dorian returned the look with an intense glare.

Thomas chuckled. He leaned his head against Bull, who sat next to him, smiling as he snuggled in even closer. 

For a long time, Dorian thought a relationship was out of the question for him. He was still notsure of what exactly he had going on with Cullen, but he knew that he wanted to figure it out. He looked down at his feet, and smiled. 

 

* * *

 

Later on in the evening, once everyone had retired to their tents and fallen asleep, Dorian lay awake, staring at the roof of the tent he now shared with Cullen. In truth Dorian felt happy, but that is not what kept him awake. He felt so content, so calm, that he became certain that the proverbial penny would drop and his newfound feeling of peace would vanish. 

Cullen snored softly, reminding Dorian of his presence. Immediately, Dorian was drawn out of his spiralling state, and managed to push the negative thoughts from his mind. 

Dorian sat up slowly in his sleeping bag, moving as carefully as he could so as not to wake Cullen. He exited the tent and made for the bottles of water sitting in the cooler, which was close enough to Cassandra’s swag that he could hear her sleep talking within. 

“Ugh,” groaned Cassandra, rustling around. “Bears…” she continued. “I’m going… I am… end you…”

After a few minutes spent eavesdropping on Cassandra’s dreams, Dorian returned to his tent stifling a giggle. The front flap of the tent proved to be a challenge in the darkness, so Dorian used his phone to illuminate the zip and made his way inside. After closing the flap, he turned around, and noticed that Cullen had shifted positions while he was gone, and was now lying with his chest exposed. For a few moments, Dorian sat there, admiring the perfectly shaped pectorals and a layer of golden hair that seemed to catch the light from his phone perfectly. 

_Sweet dreams,_ Dorian thought to himself as he lay down to sleep.


	9. THE SECOND DAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the second day of camp, and there is water, bears probably, and a precariously draped towel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally published the last chapter before I'd properly finished, but I've updated it now and there's a good chunk more added to the end. So, yeah, it's there now.

Of the group, Cassandra was the last one to rise, and Dorian couldn’t help but wonder if she was tired from fighting off all those bears through the night. Everyone was sitting down in the sun, doing their own thing, when Cassandra emerged from her swag, looking completely revitalised. 

“Who’s up for a bit of rugby in the river?” she said, surveying her friends, with her hands on her hips and looking not unlike a superhero.

Josie and Leliana were the first to agree, and joined Cassandra. 

Dorian nodded next, and went to his bag to change into more appropriate clothing. He heard Cullen agree too, and then so did Bull.

“Not for me,” said Thomas. “I hate the water. And sports. I’ll be referee.”

“Good. Josie and Leliana, you’re with me. I want to win,” said Cassandra.

“Not a chance in hell,” replied Bull. “C’mere Dorian, Cullen. Team huddle.”

They gathered in close, and Bull began to discuss specific plays and strategies, taking the game far more seriously than Dorian could ever hope to. Up close, he noticed that Bull’s bare chest was covered in scars, some large and terrible, others smaller but no less sinister looking. On the whole, though, Bull was very attractive, and his large stocky build and imposing stature was something Dorian could certainly appreciate. _Perhaps in another world, or another life,_ Dorian thought to himself. 

“You boys ready!?” shouted Cassandra.

Bull pulled his head out of the huddle and looked at Cassandra. “Almost,” he shouted back. He leaned back in and gave one last word of encouragement. “Let’s do this.”

It was clear from the get go that this was some sort of test of strength between Cassandra and Bull, with everyone else being but ancillary players. Dorian performed better than he could have hoped though, and was rather impressed with himself. An hour of intense playing later, and the scores were tied. Dorian had just about had enough, but he noticed that the stamina of his friends seemed near endless. 

“Can we just… take a few minutes,” panted Dorian, leaning forward. 

“I’ll allow it,” said Thomas, waving his hand, before resuming reading his book. 

Josie, Leliana and Cassandra all reclined into the water, floating and laughing as they chatted with each other. Bull was pestering Thomas, who seemed to be enjoying the attention despite his protests. 

Dorian sat in a chair by the cooler and chugged a bottle of water. He returned to the water, welcoming the coolness. Before long, the others had rejoined him and the game was set to resume.

“Everyone ready?” Thomas asked. A unanimous yes resounded, and Thomas threw the ball back to them.

Dorian had found a new burst of energy and played harder and fiercer than he had before, surprising even Cassandra with his newfound intensity. All that went out the window, though, when Cullen removed his shirt and cast it aside. There he stood, his well-toned body glistening in the light of the afternoon sun. 

He jumped and waved, and called out for Dorian to pass him the ball, but Dorian just stood there, completely stunned and unable to act. Everything seemed to pass in slow motion, Dorian being completely unaware of the rapid approach of Cassandra.

Suddenly, and, to Dorian at least, out of nowhere, he was hit with an immense amount of force that sent him careening through the air. 

Cassandra roared, scooped up the ball, and threw it with all her might to Josie, who moved with incredible speed past Cullen, before passing it to Leliana who danced around Bull and scored a winning point. 

Dazed and confused, Dorian lay on the shore of the river, recovering from Cassandra’s onslaught. 

Cullen rushed to his side, checking to make sure that he was okay. “Oh, Maker,” he said, kneeling down. “Cassandra, you really did a number on him.”

“I… expected him to move, in truth, but he just stood there,” she replied. 

In about a minute, Dorian felt fine, but he had to admit he enjoyed Cullen holding him. His arms were very comfortable. 

 

* * *

 

Almost everyone was exhausted after the gladiator-like game, so they just spent the rest of the day doing their own things. Thomas had finished his book, and lent it to Dorian as soon as he flipped the last page. 

“It was fantastic,” said Thomas, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sad, but fantastic.”

“A Monster Calls?” Dorian asked. “What’s it about?”

“Life,” replied Thomas. “Life, my friend.” He took a deep breath and smiled. “You’ll love it.”

Dorian trusted his friend on such matters, so took it and began reading right away. 

As for the rest of them, Thomas had gotten Bull to acquiesce into giving him a massage, but what he had traded for it, Dorian was unable to glean. Chances were if he did find out, he’d regret it. 

Cullen was napping in a hammock he’d brought along with him, while Josie and Leliana were frolicking about in the river. Cassandra had gone off on a solo hike, a fierceness behind her words as she announced her departure. 

Day turned to night quicker than Dorian had expected, thanks in large part to the book he was reading, which, true to Thomas’ word, was brilliant and gripping and emotional. 

The campfire had faded to embers, and everyone began to retire to their tents. Dorian was lying down reading when Cullen entered their tent.

“Going to bed now?” Dorian asked, still holding the book.

“Not yet. I’m gonna go and wash off in the river. I feel all weird and dirty from sitting so close to the fire.” Cullen rummaged through his pack and pulled out a towel. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Dorian nodded. The book had taken an even more emotional turn, and lest he break down into an ugly cry, he closed it and rested his head, just listening to the sounds of the night.

Which, unfortunately, included the sounds of Bull and Thomas in their tent nearby. Dorian figured out what Thomas had traded in order to get his massage. He could hear all the girls giggling, too, but funnily enough he did not mind the noise keeping him up. In fact, he felt rather fond of it, and he felt a warmth spreading throughout his body. _My friends,_ he thought to himself. _My real family._

Several minutes passed with Dorian smiling to himself, thinking of his friends, before he heard Cullen trudging back to the tent. 

“Dorian?” he called out, before poking his head through the flap. “I left my change of clothes in my bag.”

“Ah. Just a moment. I’ll go get some water while you change.” Dorian pushed himself up onto his elbows and then raised himself out of his bed. He exited the tent, and noticed that Cullen was completely naked, save for a white towel wrapped around his waist. So focussed, was he, on Cullen’s towel, and the way it tantalisingly hugged the various shapes beneath it, that Dorian did not notice the bag at his feet, and he promptly tripped over it, slamming his forehead into one of the metal poles that supported the front section of the tent. “Ah, fuck!” Dorian yelled as he fell.

Before he hit the ground, Cullen had caught him. 

In that moment, Dorian became painfully aware that Cullen was still wet from his night time dip in the river. Dorian’s head throbbed, but he couldn’t stop taking in the beauty of the man who held him. 

“Are you alright, Dorian?” Cullen asked, the concern apparent upon his face. 

“Ugh, my head,” Dorian groaned. He could feel the headache growing, but mustered all his strength to push through the pain. He opened his eyes again, and noticed that Cullen’s towel had begun to slip, the loose not becoming weaker and weaker as the seconds went by. 

Through sheer force of will alone, Dorian pulled himself together enough that he could stand on his own, giving Cullen enough time to catch the towel before he was completely uncovered. Dorian exited the tent hastily, but not before turning back in just enough time to see the perky and round behind of the man that Dorian had just decided was the most beautiful person he’d laid eyes upon.

_Goodness me,_ Dorian thought as he walked to the water cooler. _What a perfect human being. And butt._

He returned to the tent, where Cullen was sitting upright and waiting for Dorian. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, a soft smile on his face. 

Dorian nodded. “I’ve done worse. Cassandra’s tackle today may have toughened me up a bit too.”

Cullen laughed. “She’s pretty amazing.”

“Indeed,” replied Dorian, a light chuckle escaping him. “You are too,” he added, before he could stop himself.

“Uh, I… well, that is to say, uh… thank you.” Cullen blushed, and looked away momentarily. The two of them giggled, before smiling at each other once more. 

“We best get to sleep,” said Dorian, after a momentary pause. “I can only guess as to what they’ve planned for us to do tomorrow, and I’d rather be with full energy should a hike occur.”

 

Cullen nodded, and the two of them lay down to sleep. 

Dorian had noticed that Cullen’s bed appeared a little closer than it was before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry with how slow and stuff I am at writing this, it's like, Final Fantasy XV came out and then I got Skyrim, and then I got a puppy, so I have just been busy but not busy. I aim to wrap this up in a satisfying way, and I am on break from Uni now too so I will hopefully finish this before I have to go back. Peace and love, friends, and thank you for reading.


	10. THE THIRD DAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is the recipient of some news that is neither good nor bad, and the campsite gets a little messy when the drinks begin to flow.

Dorian woke slowly that morning, having slept so comfortably the night before that he was reluctant to wake up at all. He was still in bed, feigning sleep, when Cullen crept into the tent and started rummaging through his bag. It was his not-so-subtle way of rousing Dorian from sleep, as the longer Dorian pretended to sleep, the louder Cullen searched. 

“Good morning,” Dorian mumbled, his face nestled into his pillow. 

“Oh! Dorian, forgive me. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Dorian let out a mirthless laugh, before rolling onto his back. “I _suppose_ you’re forgiven.”

“Since you’re awake, I should let you know that Thomas is going for a run, while the rest of us are going for a hike. You’re welcome to join either party, if you like.” Cullen then exited the tent, notably carrying nothing.

By the time he’d gotten out of bed, it was rapidly approaching noon. As he looked around their campsite, he noticed that most of them had already left for the hike. Thomas had already changed into his running gear which consisted of fluorescent pink short-shorts and a grey tank top. He was doing his regular stretches just a few metres away from where Dorian stood, and jogged over to his friend when he noticed that he’d emerged. 

“Ready to go?” Thomas asked, jogging on the spot. “There’s apparently some really nice views around here. There’s a pancake left from breakfast for you too.”

“ _A_ pancake? A _single_ pancake?”

“Well, there’d have been more, but you know how Bull gets around, well… _anything_ edible. I actually had to hide that one from him, too.” Thomas rubbed his hand absentmindedly, and Dorian noticed a large set of teeth marks on the side. 

After eating his single pancake, Dorian and Thomas set out on their run. It felt good to run again, and the change of scenery was welcome. Even at midday, the shade of the trees kept them cool. Dorian and Thomas ran along at a fairly brisk pace, occasionally stopping for a magnificent view or quietly beautiful clearing. 

It was in one such clearing, wherein a creek wound through earth, that Thomas pulled Dorian up, a serious look on his face. Immediately, Dorian felt a strange sinking feeling deep within the pit of his stomach. Thomas was never serious. 

A few moments passed before Thomas spoke. “So, uh… I am, I need to tell you something, Dorian.”

“Okay…” 

“Dorian, I’m moving.”

“Moving? What do you mean?”

“I got this new thing going with the company, and I need to spend time in the places where we’re opening the new branches, just to oversee things until they get going properly. Then I’ll move on to the next place…”

“That’s not so bad. Why the dramatic pause?”

“The thing is, Bull and I are going to be travelling around a lot. Not permanently or anything, but for a while.”

“Oh. OH. Well, it will be good for your career. And I know how much you enjoy travel.” It was a surprise to himself just how well Dorian was taking this. Deep down, Dorian knew that something like this was going to happen. People like Thomas don’t live in small towns like theirs for long. “In any case,” continued Dorian, “we should enjoy the time we have now.”

“Yeah,” replied Thomas, staring out into the trees. He stayed quiet for a moment before clearing his throat. “I do hope that we will be able to meet up somewhere at some stage. I will miss you a lot.”

Dorian nodded. “I’d like that.”

For a while, the two friends just stood together in silence. It was not sad, nor awkward, but a silence of understanding and acceptance. It was not like they’d never see each other again, and the internet made communication easy. Perhaps, as Thomas suggested, Dorian would be able to go visit. He’d always wanted to go

“Come. Let us continue our run. We can discuss the rest of this another day.”

Thomas nodded. 

In total, they’d been out running for a couple of hours. Both Dorian and Thomas were impressed with their performance. By the time they had returned, they were both drenched with sweat and grinning from ear to ear. Everyone had made it back to the campsite, and Leliana was once again providing music — though this time it was through a small wireless speaker, rather than her own voice. 

Judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, Dorian assumed that they all already knew that Thomas and Bull were moving away. They had all been worried as to how exactly Dorian would react to the news, and were all relieved when Thomas gave a thumbs up to them. 

The group then spent several hours in the water, just floating and talking, and enjoying the company of each other. In those moments, it felt like they would all be there forever, like everything in their lives had led to this point. It was true happiness, as bright as the sun above them, and as warm as the water around them. Dorian started to laugh, only slightly at first, but then all out, and soon everyone had joined him. 

They were friends, all of them, but most importantly, they were _his_ friends, something Dorian had never really considered. They had always been there for him, but it was only at this point did he truly notice and appreciate it. He had a family, and though it was not the one he was born into, it was the one he had fashioned for himself. 

The sun was beginning to set when the group took their places by the fireside, most of them eagerly awaiting the dinner that Thomas and Bull had volunteered to prepare. 

Dorian did not think it in the group’s best interests to allow them to cook, but lest he offend them, he stayed his tongue. There were always the packaged snacks should they need a back up. An acrid smoke emanated from the cookware that Thomas was using, an odour so strong that Dorian wondered how Thomas was able to bear it. From the looks of everyone around them, Dorian wasn’t the only one to have noticed the smell. 

“Look away please, I can’t cook with all of you watching!” shouted Thomas, his brow lined with sweat. He muttered something angrily to Bull, who just shrugged. 

“Let them work,” said Leliana. “I have wine, which—” she whispered the next part so that Thomas and Bull did not hear “—we may need to get through this dinner.”

Glasses were poured, and true to form, Leliana filled them up to almost the brim. It was a delicious wine, to be sure, and before too long the group had worked their way through several bottles by the time their dinner was done. 

It appeared to be some kind of stir-fry, plain and simple but heavily fragrant. Much to everyone’s surprise, it looked quite edible and smelled even more so. It was even served upon a bed of noodles, cooked to perfection. The meat was tender and juicy, while the vegetables remained crisp and flavourful. They had managed to cook, and cook _well,_ making for a pleasant evening of eating. The wine did not let up either, coming from a seemingly endless supply. It was a wonder how they carried all of it to the campsite. 

The campfire had grown, now more of a bonfire than anything. Everyone was pleasantly drunk, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the fullness of their bellies when Leliana called for assistance. 

“Oh, how I do love a dance,” she said, smiling. “Someone, fetch my wireless speaker. Play something good, will you?”

It fell upon Dorian to retrieve the speaker, as he happened to be the one seated closest to it. He synced up his phone immediately, scrolling through his library of music before he settled on something that he felt would get everyone going.

In seconds, the familiar opening beats of Peaches’ _Fuck the Pain Away_ began to emanate from the speaker. 

“Oh, Maker,” Leliana said, leaping to her feet. “How I love this song. Dance with me, Dorian.”

With the speaker in place at the centre of the campsite, Dorian danced his way over to Leliana. Soon enough, Josie had joined in, somehow managing to still appear elegant and composed even when dancing to that particular song. It rapidly became clear just how drunk everyone had become, as even Cassandra was dancing as hard as she could to the filthy music. Thomas was laughing, a contagious laughter that soon spread to the rest of them, until they all were dancing together and laughing freely. The music cycled through some of the greatest hits of the nineties, while everyone continued partying for what felt to Dorian like hours. 

Though it was a bad idea, the alcohol continued to flow, and before long Dorian espied a strange sight that he knew would stay with him for some time. Thomas, the poor soul, was vomiting into the fire, with each volley causing the flames to expand and burn brightly for just a moment. Bull, Josie and Leliana were all doing strange movements while circling the fire and chanting loudly, in some faux-ritualistic practice with Thomas at the centre. 

“Disgusting,” came Cassandra, stepping up beside Dorian. “Utterly disgusting.”

Dorian looked over to her to see her smiling as wide as she possibly could. “They are, aren’t they?” he replied. 

“You know, we all love you very much Dorian. Especially Thomas.”

Coming from Cassandra, that was nearly enough to cause Dorian to cry, and were it not for an approaching Cullen, he would have. “I, uh… I am at a loss for words. Which rarely happens.”

“I know,” she replied. “I am going to bed. Make sure they all drink some water before sleeping.”

Dorian pulled up a wooden stump for himself and sat down, indicating for Cullen to sit at the one beside him.

“Truth be told, I am a little sad we are going home tomorrow,” said Cullen. “It seems to have gone awfully quickly.”

“Indeed. Poor Thomas will not have a good time of it tomorrow.”

“No… no he will not.” Cullen laughed.

 

The two of them just sat there watching their friends make a mess of themselves for a few minutes. These were the moments that were worth remembering, even for all their silliness, thought Dorian. Then, without warning, Cullen put his arm around Dorian and pulled him in close. Dorian froze for a second, before leaning into him and resting his head against his chest. It barely registered with Dorian that he was falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, forgive the lack of regular updates... I aim to finish this soon, but then again no one ever really tries to take forever to do things. Bear with me, friends.


End file.
